Coma

Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Supernatural, and I'm not making any money from this fic. Any characters that you don't recognise from the show, I probably own.

Thanks goes to everyone who's reviewed the first chapter of this – every review I get is great, and it means a lot to know that people are enjoying this.

Thanks also to horrorgoddess for betaing this for me.

Brief recap of first chapter: Dean handed Sam a loaded gun, and Sam shot him. Ellicott released the control over Sam, and Sam burned the doctor's bones, before rushing his brother to the hospital, where it was revealed that Dean had slipped into a coma. Dean seems to be in a strange apartment, faced with the very real possibility that he could be dead, or at least dying.

Are you dreaming, Dean? Sam wondered, staring at the pale face of his older brother. Do people in comas actually dream? If it had been anyone else lying in that bed hooked up to all of those machines, Sam might have found the idea of testing that when the person woke up interesting.

But now, it was just another obstacle in the way of his brother waking up…

I'm sorry, Dean. I wish there was some way of letting you know how sorry I am. You have to wake up. You're the only thing I have left – I can't lose you. It would destroy me.

Sam knew that with a certainty. Since Jessica's death, the only thing holding him together had been Dean. His brother was the only constant left in Sam's life. Without their Dad, the only thing the brothers had left was each other.

The thought of losing Dean was positively terrifying…

Just sitting here doing nothing isn't going to help matters any, though, Sam thought. Trouble was, he knew that the doctor was just waiting for him to recover from discovering that Dean was in a coma to find out what had happened.

And Sam wasn't exactly feeling up to trying to answer any awkward questions.

But just staying in the hospital wasn't going to help Dean at all. Sam was going to have to leave his brother alone eventually, and, even though he didn't want to, he was going to have to answer those questions sooner or later.

And sooner would probably be better…

Making his decision, Sam stood up. "I'll be back soon, Dean," he told the unconscious form of his brother.

If there's even a chance that Dean will be able to hear me…

Sam didn't know if people in comas were still able to hear things, but he wanted to be able to hope. At least the doctor had said that there didn't seem to be any kind of brain damage. Dean's brain was still active.

Right now, Sam wasn't sure which would be best. He didn't know if he could take much more of this waiting and worrying. He knew that he couldn't just lose hope, but it was difficult to keep holding on.

If our situations were reversed, Dean would never give up on me

But then, Dean had always been the strongest. He was the older brother, the protector. Sam wasn't going to be able to go on without Dean around. He wasn't strong enough – he needed his family, at least what was left of it.

I'm going to help you, Dean. I swear it. I'll bring you back.

"Mr. Winchester?" the doctor spoke up from behind Sam. "Are you ready to answer a few questions now?"

I must be getting rusty, Sam thought as he turned round to face the doctor. I didn't even hear him enter the room. "Yeah, I guess so," the younger Winchester answered. Refusing to answer any questions now wouldn't help Dean at all – in fact, it would likely make things even worse.

"Then maybe you could explain this?" the doctor suggested, passing a sheet of paper towards Sam. "I checked hospital records. This came through from St. Louis."

Oh, great, Sam thought, suddenly having a nagging suspicion. A glance down at the paper revealed that his suspicions were correct. The words 'Dean Winchester' and 'Died on March 7 2006' just seemed to jump out at him.

So much for the hope that they wouldn't actually check other hospital records.

"I don't know what to tell you," Sam replied, trying his hardest to keep his voice sounding level and calm. "I guess there must have been another Dean Winchester living or staying in St. Louis." Sam really wished that Dean was awake and all right. Sure, he had experience with lying and making up stories – but he was nowhere near as good at it as his brother.

Dean always seemed to enjoy making up all of those stories. To him, it seemed like the more outrageous the story was, the better.

"I suppose so," the doctor said, giving a slight nod. He took the sheet of paper from Sam's unresisting hands, and folded it up, tucking it away. The doctor then stepped over to check on the machines that Dean was hooked up to. "You know that he was wanted by the police for several murders?"

Sam shrugged, even though the doctor couldn't see it. "No, I didn't know that," he lied. After all, what else could he say? That he knew full well that Dean had been wanted for murder, since a shapeshifter had stolen his form?

I'd get locked up in a psychiatric hospital, and then who would be able to help Dean?

"The police are going to want to question you," the doctor said as he finished up checking on Dean's vitals. "I have told them that it hasn't been a good idea to bother you so far, but I doubt they'll be willing to wait much longer."

"It's all right," Sam responded, his voice sounding hollow even to his ears. "I don't mind talking to them." I just need to get my story straight, and find out how much they already know, he added silently. Oh, and also whether or not they've found out about Kat and Gavin's involvement.

"Right." The doctor gave a single nod. "I can let them know that you're ready to talk. You can talk to them either in here, or perhaps the cafeteria would be more comfortable for you?"

No way am I gonna talk to the police in here, where it's possible that Dean will be able to hear us, Sam thought. Out loud, he said, "Yes, the cafeteria would be fine, but could you please ask the officers to wait for a little while longer? There are a couple of phone calls I need to make."

"Of course, it's not a problem," the doctor replied. "But if you're using a cell phone as opposed to the pay phone, please take it outside the building."

"Yes, I know," Sam said, only just managing to avoid adding in a snapping tone, I do realise that! It's not like I'm stupid!

"All right," the doctor responded. "I'll send one of the nurses in to keep an eye on your brother. If you're just going to be outside the hospital, I'll make sure that someone comes out to let you know if anything changes."

"Thank you." Sam stared at Dean's pale face for a moment, before realising that just standing around doing nothing wasn't going to get his brother up and about any sooner. Besides, at the very least, he needed to let their Dad know. John Winchester was a hard man to track down – but surely he'd come if he knew that Dean's life was in very real danger?

He had to come…

With great effort, Sam wrenched his eyes from his brother's face, and then turned and all but ran from the room, moving as quickly as he could down the corridor, through the waiting room, past the reception desk, and out of the double doors.

The fresh air hit him in the face like a slap.

Sam paused, blinking a couple of times while his eyes adjusted to the sunlight. He didn't have any intention of staying outside for long. In fact, if he had his way, he wouldn't leave Dean's side at all. It was only because there might just be the chance that he'd be able to help his brother that he was even here at all.

With trembling fingers, Sam took his cell phone out of his pocket, and, after a moment's fumbling, was able to switch it on. There were no messages – of course there weren't. No one but Sam – and Kat and Gavin – knew about what had occurred in the asylum. And Sam wouldn't blame Kat and Gavin for wanting to forget everything that had happened. He wanted to forget it, after all. But he couldn't, of course. He had committed the gravest sin, and now he had to make it right.

Sam dialled the number of his Dad's cell phone – which he had long since committed to memory, although he had always avoided using it. Not because he didn't want to talk to his father, but because he wasn't sure that John Winchester really wanted to hear from his youngest son.

Especially considering the argument they had had the day Sam had left for Stanford…

As expected, Sam only got his father's voicemail. Would it kill his Dad to answer his phone once in a while? What was their Dad doing that was so important? That meant that he'd severed almost all contact with his sons?

Sam sighed as he listened to the recorded message. Then, when the beep sounded, the younger Winchester took a moment to gather himself together, to steel himself for what he had to say.

"Dad… It's Sam."

There was another pause, and Sam dashed a hand angrily across his eyes, not wanting to give in to the tears that pricked at his eyes. He took a deep breath, and continued, trying to sound calm, "Remember those co-ordinates you sent us? Well, we went there, and that doctor possessed me. Dad, I… I shot Dean." There, he'd said it. And he was ashamed to find himself crying as the flood of words continued: "I didn't mean it, I swear. But Dean… he's in a coma. Dad… Please. I… Dean needs you. He may not survive…"

Sam fell silent again, and, when he finally spoke again, it was to whisper one last word: "Please." Then, he simply disconnected the call.

For a moment, Sam just stood there, wiping ineffectively at the tears that were still streaming down his cheeks. He deserved to feel like this. He deserved to suffer, but nothing could make up for the fact that he'd shot his own brother. Nothing could match the suffering he was sure that Dean must be feeling.

God, Dean… I can't do this without you. You have to be all right, please.

The sound of his cell phone ringing abruptly tore Sam from his thoughts. For a moment, the younger Winchester just stood there, registering the sound of the phone. Dad?

The moment the thought entered his mind, though, Sam quickly discarded it. No way would his father be calling, and especially not this soon after Sam had left him a message. But the incessant ringing of the phone was demanding the young man's attention, and Sam finally answered it.

"Hello?"

"Sam, honey, is that you?" Missouri's concerned voice came over the line.

Missouri! Sam gripped the phone tightly, so tightly it was a surprise the phone didn't end up shattering. "How… How did you know to call?" he asked, hating the way that his voice shook. He was closer to falling apart than he'd really thought…

"Someone's looking out for you and your brother," the woman replied. "And, boy, you'd better not give up, you hear? Your brother needs you to be strong right now. He doesn't need you to lose control and lose hope."

"I know." Sam's hand tightened around his cell phone, as if that was some kind of substitute for his brother's hand. "Do you know anything about Dad? You haven't heard from him at all?" Sam didn't know why he was asking Missouri this – he guessed that the questions needed to come out somewhere.

Missouri was silent for a long moment, and, when she finally spoke, it wasn't really to answer Sam's question. "Your Dad really should be there with you and your brother. You're a family, you belong together."

Sam's heart sank. "He hasn't contacted you then, I guess." Is this how Dean feels all the time when dealing with me? Like the weight of the world is resting on his shoulders?

"Sam, your brother loves you very much," Missouri said, probably reading the younger Winchester's feelings even over the phone. "I know that you're blaming yourself, sweetie – but Dean knows you enough to know that you didn't mean the most important thing, and as for the rest? Well, you'll be able to work all of that up once he wakes up."

"He will wake up, won't he?" Sam didn't even care about the pleading note in his voice. He was clinging to Missouri and her comforting voice as if the woman was some kind of rock. What he really wanted to do was ask Missouri if she could come down to Illinois, but he was pretty sure that the psychic had a lot on. Besides, it wouldn't be fair for Sam to try and foist his responsibility off on someone else.

He had made this mess, and now he had to make everything right. It was his duty, his responsibility.

No one else's.

"You can't take the weight of everything on your shoulders, Sam," Missouri warned, though her voice sounded gentle. "Your brother wouldn't want that for you."

"Dean… Dean takes too much on himself anyway…" Sam whispered, moving to lean against the wall, and casting a nervous glance back over his shoulder at the hospital doors. No one had come out to give him any news. Hell, what I wouldn't give for some good news.

"Sam!" Missouri exclaimed.

"There should be a rule against psychics being able to listen to thoughts over the phone," Sam muttered. Already, though, he was beginning to feel a little better. Listening to Missouri and knowing that there was at least one other person who could understand what he was going through was enabling him to get some control over the panic at least.

"That's better," Missouri said, and Sam didn't know whether she was referring to what he'd said or what he'd thought.

It doesn't matter either way, he decided.

"I'll call up some people I know, and will come up there to be with you and your brother in the next couple of days," Missouri continued, as if they had just been discussing her coming up.

"What?" Sam was startled in silence for a moment. When he found his voice again, he said, "You, you don't have to do that." Actually, truth be told, Missouri's comment had filled the younger Winchester with an almost powerful relief. Of course, then he felt immediately guilty for feeling relieved. It wasn't like he deserved things to be made easier for him.

"Yes, Sam, I do," Missouri replied, her tone serious. "Right now, your brother needs all the help he can get. And, well, there are some things I need to tell you that it would be better to say in person. You can pick me up at the airport," she went on. "I will call you tomorrow to let you know what time and what flight I will be on."

"But…" Sam couldn't manage more than a token protest, though. As much as he was ashamed to admit it, he really did want someone to take over, to tell him that things were going to be all right. To be in charge. Because it had always been Dean before, and Sam didn't know how strong he could be.

Compared to Dad and Dean, I'm weak…

"Sam Winchester, you are certainly not weak!" Missouri exclaimed. "And don't let me hear you thinking anything like that again! Your Dad doesn't think that, and neither does your brother. Don't make me bring my spoon up with me when I come," she threatened.

Sam couldn't help a small sound that was half-laugh half-sob escape him at the psychic's words. There was something about Missouri. Even though he and Dean had only briefly met her when they went back to their old house, Sam at least found himself able to trust her. "Ok, ok," Sam said. "Sorry. I promise I'll try not to think about the fact that, compared to my Dad and brother, I'm weak." At least not where you can hear me, he added silently.

"Well, I'll give you a call tomorrow to make arrangements," Missouri said, either not reading Sam's thoughts, or just ignoring them. "You take care of yourself, Sam. And make sure you don't lose hope."

"I'll do my best," Sam replied, letting out his breath in a soft sigh. "What time are you gonna call? I'll make sure I'm out of the hospital and with my cell phone on."

"Don't you worry about a thing, Sam," Missouri answered. "I'll make sure I get you at an appropriate time." Without waiting for any kind of response, the female psychic simply disconnected the call.

Sam stared at his cell phone for a long moment. Then, he switched it off, and tucked it away again. For a moment, he stared out over the hospital grounds, and then turned to go back inside, knocking into a dark-haired young woman who had been hurrying in the direction of the hospital.

There was a startled exclamation as the books the woman was carrying thudded to the ground.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Sam crouched down to help the woman pick up the books. "I wasn't paying attention." He handed the books back to the woman, and straightened up, holding a hand out to help her to her feet as well.

"It's all right." The woman took Sam's hand, and climbed to her feet. "I probably should have been looking where I was going. Trouble is, I'm late. My lunch break overran."

"You work here?" Sam tried to sound interested, but he was really just restless to get back to his brother. Anything that cut short the time he could spend with his brother was a threat. Losing Dean was a very real fear, and Sam couldn't let go of the possible thought that his brother would slip away while Sam wasn't there.

"Well, I do voluntary work here," the woman answered. "And, of course, I'm late. So, if you don't mind." She turned to walk through the hospital door.

"No. And I'm going this way, anyway." Sam moved forward to hold the door open for the woman.

"Thanks." The woman stepped through, and started to carry the books over to the reception desk. Then, she paused, and turned to face Sam with a smile. "It was nice bumping into you."

"Yeah…" Sam said vaguely, feeling unable to return the smile. As the woman turned to talk to the receptionist, the younger Winchester made his way back to the room, back to his brother.

And to the questions from the police…

Dean watched wide-eyed as a familiar blonde stepped through the door. The older Winchester brother's first instinct was to turn and run from the room before she saw him. After all, this woman had been killed by the same demon that had murdered his Mom twenty-two years ago.

And Dean didn't have any kind of weapon on him…

However, as the woman turned from the door, Dean couldn't stop himself from saying her name: "Jessica…"

His voice was barely above a whisper, but Jessica apparently still heard him. She looked in Dean's direction, and smiled, not looking scared to see him there. "Hi, Dean," she said. "What's up?"

"…" Dean just stared at Jessica, unable to really register what he was seeing. This has to mean that I'm dead, right! The thought terrified him, because, if he was dead, then there was no one to take care of Sam. And his Dad wouldn't even know that his older son was dead… He would just carry on hunting.

Jessica blinked, her expression confused, apparently wondering just why she wasn't getting an answer. "Dean?"

Dean opened his mouth to say something, anything, but before he could, he noticed two things. Firstly, that Jessica had left the front door open. Secondly, that someone else was coming through the door. No, actually, make that two someones.

The first was a small, delicate-looking girl with red hair and a face that was more cute than pretty. The second was…

"Sam!" Dean exclaimed, taking a step back, suddenly feeling even more scared. If he was dead, and was in heaven – or even hell – then what was his brother doing here? Well, unless it was hell, and the gods – whoever they were – had decided to put his brother there in order to further torture him.

"Hey, Dean." The confused expression on Sam's face almost mirrored Jessica's. "Is something wrong? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

That's because I have Dean thought, narrowing his eyes slightly. "What am I doing here?" he demanded. "And for that matter, what is she doing here?" He gestured towards Jessica, still keeping well back.

There was, of course, the other possibility – that demons were doing this. Dean didn't know all of the different types of demons that there were, but he was willing to bet that there were some with the ability to mimic the forms of people who were both dead and alive.

Given some of the possible alternatives that Dean was coming up with, that one was almost preferable.

"What are you talking about?" Jessica asked. "I live here… We live here." She gestured with one hand to Sam and the other woman.

"Dean?" The woman walked over, and reached out to touch his arm, but the older Winchester brother flinched back automatically, and she took a step back. "Are you all right? Did you have too much to drink or something?" She wrinkled her nose slightly, and gave a glance round the room.

"Who are you?" Dean demanded, watching the woman distrustfully.

"Do you have amnesia or something?" Sam asked, narrowing his eyes a little. "That's Amber – your girlfriend, remember?"

"I don't have a girlfriend!" Dean responded. Well, there was always Cassie, he added silently. He turned to the woman – Amber, or whoever. "Look, you're cute and all, but not really my type." Then, he looked at Sam. "Listen, Sammy, the last thing I remember is us being in that asylum, and those two kids. Oh, and let's not forget the crazy doctor." Since this was all some kind of trick, or whatever, it hardly mattered just what he said in front of Jessica and Amber.

"Huh?" Amber looked between the brothers, her expression filled with confusion, and also a look on her face as if she thought that Dean was insane.

Dean didn't really care what the strange woman thought, though…

Jessica looked just as confused, and she glanced at Sam, as if to ask him what to do. Dean followed the line of her gaze.

The look on Sam's face was the worst.

There was no recognition of what Dean was talking about in his brother's eyes. Instead, Sam took a step forward, and grasped Dean's arm. "Listen, Dean, I think we need to get you to the hospital," he said. "You seem to be delirious or something, and you probably have partial amnesia, or whatever it's called."

Dean immediately tore his arm from his brother's grip. "There's nothing wrong with me!" he snapped. "I'm telling you, I want to know what happened!"

"You've probably had way too much to drink," Sam said in an infuriatingly calm voice. He closed his hand around Dean's arm again, and started to steer him towards the stairs. "Let's get you cleaned up and to the hospital. At the very least, we should make sure there's nothing wrong with you. Maybe you hit your head or something?"

Dean's protests that he was fine and that there was nothing wrong with him continued even as Sam steered his brother up the stairs.

Amber lingered, glancing towards Jessica, who was looking around as though searching for something. "Jess?"

Jessica smiled at Amber. "You should go with them," she said. "After all, Dean's your boyfriend."

"I guess…" Amber stayed where she was for a moment longer, and then turned to head up the stairs after the Winchester brothers.

Once Amber was out of sight, Jessica moved over to one of the small tables in the hallway. There was an empty beer bottle next to it, but Jessica didn't look at that. Instead, she crouched down, and reached out to pick up something that had rolled under the table. For a long moment, she just looked at it.

It was an empty pill bottle…