Coma

Chapter Three

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Supernatural, and I'm not making any money from this fic. The characters Amber and the as of yet unnamed volunteer at the hospital do belong to me, though.

Again, thank you for the reviews I've been getting for this – it's always with a mixture of excitement and dread that I open one in my inbox, because I never know if it's going to be good or bad. But people seem to be enjoying this so far, and that's good .

Also, thanks to horrorgoddess once again for betaing.

There is some bad language in this. You have been warned.

Brief recap of previous chapter: The doctor confronted Sam about Dean Winchester's death certificate, and Sam lied and said he didn't know anything about it. Sam then agreed to talk to the police, but went out of the hospital first to make a heartrending phone call to his Dad. Then, he got a call from Missouri, who told him that she was going to be arriving in order to help with Dean and also to tell Sam something.
Meanwhile, Dean found himself face to face with Jessica, and, if that wasn't bad enough, he also met an apparently alternate version of Sam, and was told that he had a girlfriend. Sam took Dean upstairs to get him cleaned up, and Jessica then found an empty pill bottle near where Dean had been lying on the floor…

When Sam entered the hospital room again, the doctor hadn't come back, but a female nurse was bending over his brother's limp form, apparently in order to check on how Dean was doing. The younger Winchester closed the door quietly behind him, and stepped up to the nurse's side. "How is he doing?" he asked, not really caring about the fact that he was probably going to startle the nurse.

The nurse jerked slightly as Sam spoke, and looked up at him with wide eyes. "Oh, you startled me!" she exclaimed.

Under any other circumstances, Sam would probably have apologised. But, right now, he was too worried about his brother to bother about being polite. "How is Dean doing?" he repeated, narrowing his eyes slightly. All of Sam's thoughts were centred on one thing and one thing only.

Getting his brother to wake up.

The nurse straightened up, glancing at Sam, her face expressionless. "There's been no change," she replied. "His condition hasn't worsened in any way."

But he still won't wake up, Sam thought, turning his gaze towards Dean's still form. His condition may not be worse… But it's not better, either. "Is there nothing more that the doctor can tell me?" he asked out loud.

"You'll have to take that up with Doctor Nelson," the nurse answered, her tone cool and professional, as well as detached.

She's seen this too many times before… She's become numb to the pain that's caused by a loved one hurting.

Sam didn't need to be psychic to see that. Although, since he was psychic – or something similar – it would be good if he could read the doctor's mind, and find out if there was something he wasn't being told. However, he wasn't sure if he would be able to cope with what he might find there.

Damn it… I should have thought about proper training! Maybe even seen if Missouri could teach me a thing or two! Of course, he could always ask Missouri about it when he picked her up from the airport – but, well, it would be a bit late then, wouldn't it? Maybe Missouri would be able to read the doctor's mind and find out the information that Sam needed to know…

Sam wasn't sure how he had been able to see the identity of the other ghost in the house he and his family had lived in before. How had he been able to recognise a woman he knew only from pictures and what Dean had told him about her? Sam didn't know – but it didn't matter. If his powers enabled him to see the identity of a ghost, then surely he could use them to discover something about his brother's condition?

Sam was abruptly pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of the door being opened behind him. He turned round to see Doctor Nelson enter the hospital room.

"Mr. Winchester?" the doctor spoke up, after casting a quick glance at the nurse. "Are you all right to answer the questions of the police now?"

What Sam really wanted to do was stay with Dean for a while, and just keep an eye on his brother. However, he knew full well that he was going to have to answer the questions sooner or later, and he had already said that he was willing to answer those questions. Besides, no matter how much time passed before he spoke to the police, Sam was hardly going to come with a story that was any better.

I'll just hope that they haven't found out about the asylum or Gavin and Kat, Sam thought. Guess I'll just have to pump them for information, same as they'll be doing to me. The Winchesters were certainly good at pumping for information. It was one of the things that enabled them to be so successful at hunting.

"Yes, I'm ready," Sam spoke out loud, as he realised that Doctor Nelson was waiting for an answer. "Just, could you please…?" Sam's eyes moved towards the still form of his older brother. I really don't want to leave him…

"Yes, of course I'll have someone let you know if anything changes," Doctor Nelson answered, nodding slightly. "I told the police that you would prefer to talk to them in the cafeteria. They're waiting for you there. Since it's past lunch break, it's closed to hospital staff right now."

Sam nodded once, casting another glance towards Dean, and biting his lip as his brother's pale face filled his vision once more. Then, he turned on his heel, and stalked out of the door, only just resisting the urge to slam it shut behind him. It might make him feel better to do so, but certainly wouldn't endear him to anyone.

Sam hadn't asked for directions to the cafeteria – but then, he didn't need to. All he had to do was follow the signs, and they led him back past the reception desk, where the dark-haired volunteer was leaning, talking to the receptionist. Thought that she was supposed to be working, Sam thought as he caught a few little uninteresting snippets of their conversation. It wasn't like work hours were any of his business, though…

As Sam passed the dark-haired volunteer, he felt her fingers lightly brush against his as she slipped a folded piece of paper into his hand. Sam frowned, and started to turn, but the woman wasn't even looking at him, seemingly caught up in her conversation with the receptionist, who was apparently oblivious to everything else going on around her. At least, that was the impression she gave.

Sam started walking again. He didn't unfold the paper, simply slipped it into his pocket in order to look at it later. It probably wasn't anything very important anyway. More than likely, she was giving him her number.

You'd like this hospital, Dean, Sam thought, as he went through the cafeteria doors, ignoring the laminated sign that said 'Closed'. Plenty of 'hot' women for you to chat up if you were awake.

He really needed to stop torturing himself like this…

The two men sitting at the table nearest the door weren't dressed in uniform, but it was pretty obvious that they were police officers. They had that 'look' about them. Standing nearby was a man who looked like a doctor – he was probably off duty, and was waiting to make sure no one tried to come into the cafeteria.

Sam fought down the urge to scream at the doctor, to demand why he wasn't working as hard as he could to make Dean better, and made his way over to the three men.

"Mr. Winchester?" the doctor questioned, glancing towards Sam.

Sam fought down a flash of anger that he knew was irrational. He knew that there was no way the doctor could have known what he looked like, and yet he still thought that the doctor should make the effort to know who the person whose brother was in a coma was.

Because of me

"That's me," Sam Winchester replied, nodding first to the doctor and then to the police officers. "Sam Winchester." He realised that he should probably have gone by one of the many assumed names, but it was too late for that now.

I'll just hope that they haven't liaised with the police in St. Louis, Sam thought. The last thing he needed was to have to explain why Dean Winchester was alive and not in prison.

Somehow, I don't think they'll buy the whole shapeshifter explanation.

"Can we see some ID?" the officer on the right asked in a gruff voice.

"Yes, of course." Sam fumbled for his wallet, relieved for the compartment in Dean's car where the rest of the badges were hidden. And the police couldn't search it without a warrant… Still, his hands were trembling as he pulled his ID out. Whether with rage or fear, or something else, he didn't know.

As Sam proffered the card, both officers took a good look at it. Then, the one on the left – who looked big enough to be in very real danger of breaking the chair he was seated on – glanced over at the doctor. "Could you make sure that no one disturbs us, please?" he requested in a smooth, cultured voice.

The doctor nodded, although the expression on his face seemed to suggest that he had little time for this, and walked towards the door.

Once the doctor had left the cafeteria, the officer on the right gestured towards the opposite chair. "Please have a seat," he offered politely.

Sam wasn't fooled. It might be taking place in a hospital rather than a police station, but this was still going to be an interrogation. The two men were going to be doing their best to get as much information out of the younger Winchester as possible.

Sam would just have to make sure he didn't let slip any more information than he was willing to.

The younger Winchester slid awkwardly into the chair, his eyes moving between the two officers, careful to keep his expression neutral.

See? I'm not a threat.

"How can I help you, officers?" Sam questioned, the tone of his voice polite, but just as neutral as his expression. "I would like to make sure my brother's condition doesn't get any worse." It was the truth, of course – and also gave Sam an excuse to leave if the questions got a little too close to home.

"Yes, I understand that," the left officer said. "I'm Officer Hopkins, and this is Officer Willis. We already know who you are."

"Of course," Sam murmured, and then waited for them to continue with his head tilted to the side. He was too tired and heartsick to think up any further questions right now. Dean would tell me that I should take care of myself and get some rest, he thought wryly. Trouble was, with Dean in a coma, Sam simply couldn't be bothered to take proper care of himself.

Besides, he didn't want to experience any more nightmares… And Sam was pretty sure that he wouldn't just be dreaming about Jessica dying…

"Your brother was brought into the hospital with rock salt embedded in the chest and a gunshot wound," Officer Willis said, as if Sam wasn't aware of Dean's injuries.

"We would like to know what happened," Officer Hopkins said. "If it was a mugging or something… Well, we need to know whether we need to warn people to be careful about staying out after dark."

"It was a mugging," Sam responded, drawing on all of the skills he had learned in order to tell a plausible lie. "I'm not really sure what happened… Everything just seemed to move too fast. The guy just leaped out and threatened us. I guess he got freaked or something when Dean collapsed, because then he ran off."

The officers exchanged glances, and then Office Willis asked, "And what about the rock salt embedded in your brother's chest?"

Sam shrugged. "I think the creep used two guns – if one of them was loaded with rock salt, it was probably because he was just trying to scare people." Mentally, the younger Winchester crossed his fingers. When lying, always make sure you stick to the truth where possible. That way, there's less chance of being caught out… Well, that was the way Sam thought.

Dean had never been that careful…

The officers exchanged another glance, and Sam wondered how long they had known each other for. The two seemed to not even need words to communicate. Even to Sam's eye, they seemed more like brothers than simply partners – but it was clearly events and mutual respect that bound them together, since something told him that they weren't related to each other at all.

And blood is supposed to be thicker than water…

Finally, the officers seemed to come to some kind of agreement. "Thank you for your time," Officer Hopkins said as he and his partner stood up. "Please let us know if you think of anything else." He pushed a card with a telephone number on it across the table.

Sam picked it up with slightly nerveless fingers, feeling drained, and a little nauseous. He had no idea of whether the officers believed him or not. He was just so tired of it all… He had shot his own brother, and he knew that he deserved to suffer for what he had done, but, oh god, please not this. Not losing Dean. Dean didn't deserve to die. Why did the innocent always have to suffer for what the guilty had done?

Sam turned away with eyes that were damp with tears, heading back towards the cafeteria door, barely able to see where he was going because of how blurred his vision was. As he stumbled back along the corridor to his brother's room, he shoved the card into his pocket, forgetting for the time being about the piece of paper he had already shoved in there…

"Damn it, Sammy, there's nothing wrong with me!"

"It's Sam," the object of Dean's ire responded in an infuriatingly calm voice. "And there's clearly something wrong with you. Dude, don't think I didn't notice the empty beer bottle. How much did you have to drink last night? Did you just happen to forget completely about the big test we have tomorrow?"

"Test!" Dean's eyes widened. "Fuck, Sammy, what are you talking about!"

Sam stared at Dean. "There's something really wrong with you, isn't there? And stop calling me Sammy! I'm not a kid anymore, Dean!"

Unable to help himself, Dean smirked, happy to see that some things at least had remained the same. Then, as he looked around the room that was apparently 'his', he let out a groan. "Oh, come on – this is so not my room. I'm nowhere near this messy."

"Hate to break it to you, bro, but this really is your room." Having no luck finding a matching pair of shoes in his brother's wardrobe, Sam walked swiftly over to the bed, and, shoving Dean's legs aside, crouched down to start feeling around under the bed.

"Hey, I'm sitting here!" Dean objected, only just squashing the urge to use his brother as a footrest. Looking down at Sam, though, Dean couldn't help snickering. "You're going to get stuck under there, you know," he informed Sam in a singsong voice. He paused for just a moment before adding, "Sammy."

"Shut up."

I could get used to this. Dean was well on his way to deciding that he had officially gone mad. That was it. He had finally cracked under the strain of hunting, and was now locked up in a padded room somewhere wearing a straitjacket. So, if he was mad, he might as well enjoy it as much as possible.

"Dean, how can you not put a single thing away neatly?" Sam demanded, apparently completely oblivious to the thoughts that were going through his brother's mind. "I really don't see how you can ever find anything in this room."

"See the genius at work." Dean's voice suddenly trailed off into silence as he found himself staring at a photo on his desk, right next to the laptop that he was sure he had never owned. The machine wasn't what was important, though. Dean just sat there with his mouth hanging open as he saw the people who were in the photos.

"Mom…" The voice was a pained gasp, somehow conveying in that single word a lifetime of knowing that there was an empty void in Dean's heart that had never been filled. He had seen plenty of photos of her, but only from when he had been four years old and Sam had been a baby.

Never one of both him and Sam all grown up with their arms flung around their mom and grinning at the camera.

"Huh?" Having finally found a matching boot under the bed, Sam had somehow managed to pull himself out from under the bed without getting stuck, and now looked at Dean expectantly, as if wondering what was going on. "What did you just say?"

Dean made no response, for once ignoring his little brother. The older Winchester brother slowly stood up, and walked carefully over the desk. He picked up the framed photo, and just stared at it for a long moment, his fingers lightly stroking over the surface of the glass.

She looked older, of course, but no less beautiful. As he stared into the face of the woman who had died above Sam's cradle – protecting her youngest son, Dean fully believed – he felt numb, cold all over. For the first time in he didn't know how long, Dean's emotions seemed to be about to get the better of him. The numbness fled, to be replaced by an ache deep in his heart. It didn't matter that he didn't have many memories of her, that the last time he had seen her, she had sacrificed what remained of her soul in order to protect her sons one last time. Just seeing her face in the photograph was enough to bring a lump to Dean's throat.

"Hey, man, what's wrong?" Sam came up beside Dean, watching his older brother with obvious worry in his eyes.

"She's alive…" Dean whispered without looking up. For once, he didn't have a smart comeback to make. I don't care if I am mad… If I can see her… this won't be so bad…

Sam stared at his brother. "Well, duh, of course she's alive. What, you're honestly telling me that you don't remember us going back last weekend? Amber and Jess both came with us. They all got on reasonably well." Sam patted his brother's shoulder reassuringly.

Since when did Sam start acting like the big brother? Abruptly, Dean's eyes widened. Oh, no! Please don't tell me that in this weird reality I've created, I'm actually younger than Sam!

The thought filled Dean with panic for a moment, but then he relaxed. Nah, that couldn't be it. Sam wasn't acting like he was the older brother – just trying to offer his brother some small measure of comfort, even though he had no idea of just what was wrong.

Somehow, Dean felt that maybe, just maybe, he would be able to forgive Sam for shooting him. The older Winchester had the strong feeling that he wouldn't have shot Sam had their positions been reversed, but that was because his whole life had been about protecting Sam. There was no way that Dean could ever have pulled that trigger. But Dean knew that Sam loved him – even though they never talked about it. And he loved Sam. So he could forgive his brother.

Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us… A line from a prayer that Dean felt like he had always known. And, with that thought on his mind, he reached to grasp Sam's arm with one hand as he placed the photo carefully back on the desk with the other. "I forgive you, Sammy." This wasn't the Sam that needed to hear those words – but Dean would make sure that, once he had regained his sanity, Sam would hear them. Those words were a promise, and Dean always kept his promises…

"Huh?" Sam looked confused, taken aback. "What are you talking about, Dean?"

Before Dean could respond, there was the sound of a soft knock on the door, and the brothers exchanged glances, before Dean let go of Sam's arm, and called, "Come in!"

After a moment's hesitation, the door was pushed open by Amber. "Um…" She looked uncertainly between the brothers. "I was just thinking… If Dean has amnesia or something, and doesn't remember me, doesn't that mean that I'm just making things awkward by being around? I was thinking I might go and stay with some friends…"

Yeah, talk about me like I'm not here, Dean thought. It was like he had an illness or something. He met Amber's eyes. "You're staying here as well, right? I'm hardly going to kick you out…"

"I'm going to go talk to Jess a moment, and then get the car started," Sam said tactfully. He squinted at Dean. "Make sure you're ready to leave, otherwise I will drag you out of here, whether you're ready or not." Without waiting for any kind of reply, the younger Winchester left the room.

Dean sighed heavily, and then looked towards Amber. "Look, I'm sorry I don't remember you, but I can't pretend that I do. That wouldn't help matters any at all." He just wished that she didn't look so stricken…

Amber took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "Yeah, well, it's not like there's much I can really do about it… Just as long as this isn't some kind of line you're spinning in order to break up with me."

"Hey, I can spin lines much better than that," Dean objected with a quick grin, as he sat down on the bed and pulled his shoes on. "Maybe you can tell me a bit about it… later, if there's time," he added. He wasn't really sure if he wanted to do that – but Amber looked so unhappy that he felt like he had to say something.

Amber nodded once. "All right." Her shoulders slumping slightly, she simply turned and left the room.

Dean let out a sigh of relief, and quickly finished up with putting his boots on. As he stood up, though, his sharp ears caught the sound of some rustling under the blankets of the bed…