CHAPTER FIVE:

THE LAST RESORT

The gas pedal pushed flat against the base board; the Impala singing as it gobbled up asphalt. His feeling of despair grew threatening in his gut, the spasms twisting and roiling, increasing his anxiety. A bead of sweat ran down his temple as he concentrated on the road, veering around multiple cars on the highway. The tear in his side stung and he hissed, fighting through the heat.

"Come on baby, go…go…go!" he voiced through clenched teeth. The hospital was maybe another three minutes.

"All clear!" Dr. Reuben yelled, descending the paddles. All hands went up and Sam's chest bucked forward.

"No change," the nurse called.

"Let's go again. Charge to 360." The nurse hit the button, charging the cart. "All clear!"

John paced in the back of the room, his face flushed, exerted from the stress of the last few moments. Sam had gone into cardiac arrest and the team had been attempting to revive him at his demand with no results. They continued to yell out "no pulse." John's heart thumped madly against his cage creating a nasty ache.

"Come on son. Don't quit yet!"

The tires screamed, smoking, as they slid to a jolting halt in front of the E.R. bay. Dean ripped the keys off and stumbled out of the car, falling to his knees. He made a funny noise and leapt into a run, limping towards the bay doors, the elixir held tight in his hand. Once inside the E.R. bay, he slammed into the elevator, the doors just closing shut.

"Ahhh, dammit!" he growled, and then ran for the stairs.

He ran as fast as he could up the three flights of stairs.

A solid fifteen minutes passed and there were still no signs of life. The team had shocked Sam's heart a fifth time, and then went in for CPR. After the last compression, Dr. Reuben stopped and looked to his nurse at the monitor.

"Check again," Dr. Reuben called.

"No sinus rhythm. Still in V-tach."

The doctor then knelt his head, soughed in disappointment, and said, "Alright, that's it everybody." He placed the paddles back onto the cart.

"No, please don't!" John pleaded, running forward. "Don't stop. Keep going!"

"I'm calling it," Dr. Reuben called to his team, looking at his watch. "Time of death: 12:46am."

"No, no, no, no!"

The doctor turned to him shaking his head, taking off his gloves. "I'm sorry John. There's nothing more we can do. He's gone."

John's body suddenly trembled and he couldn't look at the doctor, couldn't look at the team who were cleaning the equipment off his placid son, shutting off the monitors. His fists clenched and clenched and he now felt like he was descending down a dark spiral. The staff filed outside, the room becoming bone-chillingly quiet. John approached Sam laying so peacefully in the bed, the tube still in his throat. A lone tear fell down his cheek as he laid a gentle kiss on Sam's forehead, running a hand over his head.

"I'm so sorry, Sammy. God, I'm so sorry."

There were loud footfalls echoing from the hallway. He recognized that gait. John straightened up and closed his eyes in despair. Dean was back. He prepared for the worst.

Dean's sprint slowed to a halt as he entered the room. The first thing he noticed was the room was too quiet – no beeps, no whoosh of the respirator, nothing. He saw his father who looked at him with an agonized expression and he suddenly feared the worst. His gaze slowly fell on his still, lifeless sibling.

Sam? Was he?

The air in the room had disappeared. He couldn't breathe. His knees buckled as he approached the bed, his father catching him and lowering him to the floor. Both men held onto each other in a vice-like grip, caving into their emotion. Dean cried a litany of "no's".

"He's gone Dean. He held on as long as he could," John said. Feeling something wet, he raised his hand and saw it was smeared with blood. "Dean, you're hurt."

Dean refused to acknowledge the concern over his bleeding midriff. His whole world felt like it was being crushed to dust. He couldn't think, he couldn't move, only released a squall of misery. He wanted out of this nightmare, smacking his chest to elicit pain, anything to wake up.

This was not the end. It couldn't be. It was not right. Dean scrambled to his feet ignoring his father's pleas, muttering repeatedly, "no, I'm not giving up. I'm not giving up."

John tried to pull him back from his brother and he wrestled his arm out of his grip. Carefully, he removed the intubation tube from Sam's mouth and took the elixir out of his pocket. Lifting his limp brother into his arms, he poured the dark liquid down his throat, emptying the vile down to the last drop.

"Dean, stop this. He's gone!"

Shaking his head in disbelief, he cried, "Leave me alone!" He pulled Sam's head into the crook of his neck, rocking him slightly. "He can't die. Not on my watch! Just give it a minute, please!"

John covered his head with his hands and turned around, overwhelmed.

A minute passed and nothing happened. There was no miraculous opening of the eyes, or twitch of the hand, no breath of life. "Oh god," he wheezed, squeezing his little brother some more, placing a hand on his chest. John couldn't take it much more and began to leave the room.

Dean's eyes suddenly shot open, his head bucking upwards…he felt something beneath his fingertips. A small thump, thump, thump…"Dad, wait!"

John stopped and turned around as Dean brought his head to Sam's chest. "Come here and listen. I hear something." His father was skeptical. "No seriously, I really hear something."

Immediately, John came over and lowered his head to Sam's chest as Dean did. He then popped up, in disbelief, in surprise. He heard it too! Dean gently laid Sam back onto the bedspread as John ran to get the doctor.

The staff was slow to move, but eventually, Dr. Reuben returned appearing cynical. He tried to assure that Sam was indeed gone, but relented when both Winchesters nearly threatened him. Reluctantly, he pulled off his stethoscope and listened for a heartbeat. Next, his eyes widened and he pressed the call button. Dean and John were ushered from the room as the team went back to work. Watching the flurry of activity from the hallway, John held onto his injured son unwilling to let him go.

A few minutes later, Sam was carted from the room. Dr. Reuben met them quickly explaining what they were doing. "I'm in shock," he said. "I can't explain it. There was no sinus output. He had been clinically dead for over fifteen minutes. It's possible he still had a pulse, but was too low to be detected. I'm not sure."

"So, is he going to be okay now?" Dean asked, rushed.

"We're taking him up to I.C.U and going to run some tests. Go to the waiting room. I'll meet you there once we have definitive answers." The doctor then looked at Dean. "Dean, I see you're favoring a bit in your side. I'll have a nurse come and take care of you. Sit tight gentlemen."

The Winchesters nodded in appreciation and went to the waiting room as directed. John helped to lower his son into a chair. He placed a tender hand along his cheek and peered into his eyes. "Dean, I'm not going to ask what you found. Just tell me one thing…tell me you didn't make a deal…tell me I'm not going to lose you."

Dean smiled briefly. "No sir…let's just say that sometimes good deeds pay off. We'll be fine…as long as we don't go near Kansas City anytime soon."

Nodding in understanding, John then said, "I'm proud of you son. Let's get you patched up."

The sun began to present a new day when Dr. Reuben entered into the waiting room, gently waking the two men. Both John and Dean straightened up, eager for news.

"Gentlemen," the doctor began ecstatically, "all I can say is a miracle has happened. Personally, I don't believe in miracles, but I've got no other explanation for this. Sam's going to be okay. We ran some more scans. The tumor has shrunk, almost non-existent. His vitals are stable and he's starting to come around."

Both men released a sigh of relief.

Dr. Reuben continued, "We've moved him to recovery so you can sit with him. He should wake soon. I want to keep him here a few more days for observation. Your boy has an angel watching over him. If all goes well, he can go home in a few days."

"Thank you sir," John shook the man's hand. "We can't describe how appreciative we are. But now, let's go see our boy."

They were led to the recovery wing of the hospital and into the room. Sam lay asleep, some of his golden color returning to his cheeks. Dean was glad to see this. He grabbed his hand as he took a seat next to the bed. The hand twitched and soon Sam opened his eyes. They were full of life, full of triumph.

Dean bit his lip to avoid his tears. "Hey Sammy. I told ya, you were gonna kick it in the ass dude."

Then Sam smiled and Dean smiled back. He hadn't failed his brother.

END