The room was too quiet, apart from the beeping coming from the machines attached to my brother's unconscious body. My head hurt. The nurse told me I had concussion, but apart from that I had escaped the crash with minor injuries. How the hell that happened, I don't know. I was on the side of the car that took impact. It made no sense. It should've be me laying there, not Dean.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, my head in my hands. "This is my fault. I saw this coming and I didn't think about warning anybody."

Each time medical personnel went by they tried to usher me out the room, as they were concerned about my welfare. But I refused to leave Dean alone. My hair was disheveled and my eyes were red rimmed from crying earlier. Now was not the time for being all weepy and all that crap. I had to be strong.

"Like a lioness" Dad told me once.

I hadn't heard anything about Dad. For all I knew, he could've been in the same state as Dean or worse. I needed Sam by my side. I was worried about him. Not just about the accident but over the confrontation with Yellow Eyes.

"Do you think Sam's ok?" I asked Dean. "He's gonna be pissed to find me here alone. But I'm not alone, I'm with your useless ass aren't I? Still, he'll think I should be laying down. Just like that nurse and doctor that keep coming in."

I know what your thinking. "Duh, you can't ask a coma patient questions and expect answers" I'm not dumb, okay. Bobby once told me that it's possible for the unconscious to have some form of awareness to certain stuff, like touch or sound.

Now, this is when it got weird, which is odd because it's me were talking about. A cold shiver went up my spine and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I craned my head over my shoulder. Did I leave a window open? Nope. Nothing.

Suddenly, Sam appeared out of nowhere, making me jump slightly.

"Chris, thank God," he said, marching over and crushing me into a bear hug. "I was worried sick."

After I regained lung capacity to be able to speak again I said:

"I could say the same thing to you. Man, you look like crap. No offence."

He just petted me on the head, his attention now on Dean.

"Oh no" I heard him utter.

Dean's doctor entered the room, having not noticed Sam's presence yet.

"You're father's awake," he said. "You can go see him if you like."

He then realised Sam was in the room, and probably thankful that there was an adult in the room now, one that was not comatose.

"What about our brother?" Sam asked, his hand squeezing my shoulder.

"Well, he sustained serious injury: blood loss, contusions to his liver and kidney. But it's the head trauma I'm worried about," replied the doctor. "There's early signs of cerebral edema."

Whatever that was, it didn't sound good.

"So, what happens now? Does he need surgery or something?" I questioned.

"Well, we won't know his full condition until he wakes up," answered the doctor. "If he wakes up."

If? The hell does that mean? I didn't hear that. For a second I thought I heard Sam say "Screw you."

"I have to be honest most people with this degree of injury wouldn't have survived this long," added the doctor, honestly."He's fighting very hard. But you need to have realistic expectations."

The next few hours went by incredibly slowly as I remained at my brother's bedside. Time must of stopped or something. I always said if I had a super power, I would have a really lame ability. The power to slow or stop time would get old real fast.

I did stuff to occupy the time. I read out several magazines that the nurse had brought in, hoping Dean might hear my voice and get his stubborn ass out of bed, telling me to shut up and quit bothering his quiet time. I guess that's why I picked really boring and dumb articles.

"C'mon, wake up. I'm bored and I wanna get out of here. I hate hospitals. There creepy" I said, slumped slightly over the bed.

I poked his arm playfully. When I was little, it used to be one of my favourite games. Pretending to be asleep. It would make me giggle when Dean would go "Boo!"

"I wish it was just pretend," I said, sadly. "God, things used to be so simple. What happened?"

When Dad finally made an appearance, I was surprised by how quiet he was. I thought I would be lectured about not resting, but he remained mostly silent. He just sat in his chair and watched Dean.

I thought he would be contacting every possible healers or priest that could help us, or at least that's what Sam told me Dad would be doing. Guess Sam was wrong then. Dad looked like he had finally given up. A voice appeared:

What the hell kind of father are you?

Another shiver went up my back. I looked up suddenly, and I thought I saw someone by the other side of the bed. Sam was back. I rubbed my tired eyes for a moment, but when I looked back, there was nobody there. The breeze that blew into the room caused me to stand, a curious and confused expression on my bruised face.

"Honey? What's wrong?" Dad asked, his voice a rough grumble.

I shook my head and sat back down. I bit my lower lip.

"Nothing," I replied. "It's cool, I'm fine."

I musta hit my head harder than I thought.

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