'Cliffhanger'

Chapter 5

Notes: Thanks again to everyone for your lovely reviews and comments, they all make me smile (and chuckle happily) cause I'm evil that way LOL ;) – I also hope I've managed to maintain the angst and action for you in this chapter. I had a very emotional week last week (cause of someone very special, doing something very special for me) so I tried to use those heartfelt emotions in this chapter.

Thanks as always to my wonderfully talented and generous beta's, Phoebe (alias PADavis) and Amarintha for taking the 'time' to read through my scribbles LOL ;)

Warning: Language

Sam's POV

Headache.

Thumping ... in time to my heartbeat.

Oh god ... head's ... definitely ... killing me.

"... ETA, fifteen minutes ..."

I struggle to draw air into my starving lungs, my chest barely rising.

Don't feel so good ... I think I need some help.

Cold. I shiver. Something cold and round moving over my chest.

"... tension pneumothorax. Decreased breath sounds on the right side. Jugular venous distension ..."

Ow, head hurts. Loud noises. I try to move. I can't. I'm strapped down.

I inhale ... warm oxygen rushes into my body ... it's not enough ...

I cough weakly.

Something pulls.

Uh shit ... flaring up my neck. Muscles going rigid with tension.

Ow! Ow!

I think something's broken.

Muffled voices. There's a hand on my chest again, moving around, assessing damage.

My own hand clenches around something textured and flat ... dog tags ... Dad's ... he pressed them into my palm ... before they loaded me into the helicopter.

"Look after these for me, okay son? We'll meet you there ... just hold on ... for Dean and me."

"Kay ..."

Remember him leaning forward ... gently kissing my forehead ... tears in his eyes. Ah crap ... I must be dying.

Breath hitches again, lungs rattling painfully in my tight chest. Can't breathe.

Oh shit. Can't breathe ... can't breathe ...

I panic ... trying to open my eyes ... can only manage one ... I squint. Someone's leaning over me, a cool pack covering the right side of my face.

"Dn?"

My voice is so soft it disappears amongst the roaring engines. For a brief second, it looks like my brother sitting next to me, light illuminating his silhouette, framing him in an unearthly glow ... cocky grin pulling at his lips. I smile back.

I try to focus on him … my vision clears after a moment, but instead, I'm looking at strangers. They're fussing over me … asking me questions. Too many questions.

"Sam ... you with us? Can you hear me?"

Not Dean ... where's Dean?

"Listen, I'm going to insert a needle into your chest ... it's gonna hurt a bit ... but it will help you breathe ... okay?"

No, it's not okay ... I want my brother ... my Dad. I try to tell him, but I cough instead, chest cramping as I fight for breath.

"I'm ... sorry …"

Voice just a whisper ... he doesn't hear me.

"... you should feel better any minute now ..."

I'm sorry ... it's my fault ... my fault ... I feel tears burning behind my lids.

I remember ... the Wendigo.

Images assault me as the memories come flooding back.

I remember stabbing it ... just as Dean doused it with lighter fluid, setting the thing alight. I moved back, but I wasn't quick enough.

It's my fault.

It shrieked, hitting me, sending me flying. Dean was after me in an instant. I know he grabbed my arm, holding onto me ... he wouldn't let go ...

Hazy after that ... but I know he's hurt ... he's hurt badly ... just like me.

My heart aches at the thought. Please Dean, please be okay!

The medic to my left is tapping on my bruised chest with his fingers.

"... hyper-resonance on percussion, unequal chest rise ... hand me that ... need to keep him still."

I look at the medics nervously. Sucking in more oxygen ... forcing it out again. Each gasp a feeble effort. Then more pain as he pushes something into my ribs. The shock of the sensation has me holding my breath.

"I'm inserting the needle."

I try to focus on what he's saying ... but I don't think he's talking to me ... someone ... over the headset.

Instantly, there's relief ... the tight pressure in my chest is released, the rush as I inhale more deeply makes me dizzy.

"Okay ... we've got it ... tape it down ..."

I fight the urge to throw up.

"No ... pulse is still weak and thready ... yes, he's still in respiratory distress."

I want to look around, but I'm so tired. Too weak to move. I just need my family ... I'm scared ... scared of losing them.

"... simple fractures of the … splinted. Yeah ... severe concussion ...

Headache starts again. Slowly becoming worse. I grip the dog tags, desperate for some kind of comfort.

It starts bit by bit, growing more intense. I frown, groaning loudly as shooting white hot spikes suddenly stab at my brain ... I think I cry out ... not sure ... can't focus ...

... hurts ... hurts ...

Feel my eyes rolling back ... please ... hurts ...

The pain is so blinding, so intense, nothing else exists ... can't think straight ... I grab at my head … screaming now ... agony ripping through my skull ... someone help me ... please ...

"SAM?"

Please ... help me ... make it stop ...

"Son ... open your eyes ... you're scaring me!"

Firm hands are holding my wrists as I clutch at my throbbing head. My breath catching as the intensity of the pain slowly starts dying down, but I'm left shaking uncontrollably.

"Sam?"

I blink ... bright light making me squint ... the lingering sensation of agony throbbing behind my eyes as I pinch the bridge of my nose, still trying to get my breathing under control. My heartbeat is thumping wildly in my chest. After what feels like hours I finally look up ... into Dad's concerned face.

"Sam ... Sammy ... please ... look at me, what's wrong?"

"Dad?"

"Thank god, Sam ... you scared the shit out of me kiddo! How you feeling?"

I look at him in confusion, my eyes travelling around suspiciously, taking in the scene before me. We're outside, beautiful sunny day, tall, white barked trees, quiet forest ... I look down ... I'm sitting in a wheelchair ... Dad is kneeling in front of me. He looks pale ... scared.

"Where are we?"

The look of worry intensifies on his face.

"Pontiac, Illinois ..."

I look past him at a mound of fresh dirt, a makeshift white cross acting as a marker ... I look back at Dad in confusion.

"What's happening ... why are we here?"

"Sam ... kiddo ... you're really starting to scare me ..."

His hands are cupping my face ... I shake my head slowly, unsure. I turn around, trying to find someone.

"Where's Dean?"

I look back at Dad ... the look he gives me sends a bolt of pure dread through my chest. I look around frantically again, trying to ignore it, praying, denying ... but finally my gaze settles back on that cross, on that heap of dirt ... a grave ... I shake my head ... no ... NO ...

"He died, Sam ... you know that kiddo. Dean died."

"NO!"

Dad's words stab at my heart, tearing at my reality ... NO ... I try to push him away, suddenly enraged beyond words. I hit out at him, my fists hitting their mark, but Dad just grabs my wrists, I'm too weak, my efforts useless ... I want to hit him ... hurt him ... damnit ... he can't say that ... he can't ...

"No ... no ... he didn't ... we were on our way to the hospital ... he said he'd be right behind me ... he said ..."

"Sammy ... kiddo ... that was three weeks ago."

I don't know what's happening ... can't remember ... the world suddenly starts spinning uncontrollably ... the only thing I can hear are Dad's urgent pleas for me to breathe ...

I suck in a lungful of air. Shaking violently as Dad grabs the back of my neck in a firm embrace.

"No ... it can't be ... it's not ..."

I'm frantic now, praying, begging ... my voice breaking ... I want to escape this, but I can't move ... I want to run, get away from here ... and then grief ... it hits me like a sledgehammer as Dad tries to hold onto me. I don't want him, I want Dean, but I still clutch at him desperately, my fists knotting into his shirt.

"Dad ... please ... it's not true ... please ..."

I yell out then, screaming at the world ... no ... at Dean! How could he do this ... how could he leave me?

I scream until I'm hoarse ... I scream as Dad tries to hold me close, rocking me in his firm embrace ... I scream until it becomes a low keening noise, a heartbroken sob, and then inconsolable tears ...

"Sam ... please son ..."

I don't know how long we sit like that, Dad just kneeling in front of me, holding onto me with the same desperation I feel ... tears streaming down our faces, but eventually I'm too drained, and I sit slumped forward, Dad sitting on the grass next to me, still clutching my wrist. He watches me silently ... my heartbreak reflected in his eyes.

"You were in a coma for over a week, they said you weren't going to make it."

I'm only half listening ... this can't be real ... please god ...

"Don't you remember? We were both with him when he ..."

I want to vomit.

"The doctors said something about 'serum sickness' ..."

I feel dead inside ... I feel dead in this beautiful place, it's filled with death ... it's filled with Dean ... it's so peaceful and isolated ... he would like it ... he would like the silence ...

"... had a delayed reaction to one of the antibiotics ... something similar to penicillin ... it happened so quickly Sam ..."

I look at the grave through blurry eyes ... no frills, no fuss ... just a silent marker of a life lost ... a brother and best friend ... a son ... and it's my fault ...

"One moment he was getting better, bitching about the hospital food, you know how he gets, and then ... "

I look at Dad, knowing how helpless he must feel, knowing how he probably wants to eradicate someone ... it wasn't Dean's injuries that killed him ... it was a mistake ... a stupid allergy ...

"There's nothing anyone could do, Sam... he's gone, son ... he's gone ..."

Dad's voice breaks again as he looks at the homemade cross. I shake my head in disbelief ... it's not fair ... why Dean?

"It should've been me!"

Dad's eyes suddenly flare with rage.

"Don't you say that Sammy ... Don't you ever say that!"

"It's true Dad, he shouldn't have died ... not Dean ... it's not right ..."

I start sobbing again, Dad just sits next to me quietly, rubbing his thumb over my wrist. He speaks softly, with a strange determination ... and I find myself clinging to his words.

"It's okay son ... I'll find a way to fix this."

There's an odd tone to his voice.

"You know, your mom and I came here once ... to this place ... before we got married. She said it was the most beautiful spot on earth."

I watch as a light breeze plays amongst the tall grass. Rays of warm sunlight filtering through the leaves. She was right.

He chuckles at the memory, his eyes moving to the fresh soil ... my brothers final resting place ... I don't remember ... I didn't even get to say goodbye.

"She said that if ever a place were touched by the hand of God, by angels ... it was here ... I remembered that ... I knew it would be a good place for Dean ... he'll find peace here ... if ..."

He doesn't finish his thoughts. I want to ask him why he decided to bury Dean … why in an unmarked grave … but I can't seem to think past the headache. I rub my forehead absently. Dad doesn't miss it though.

"Come kiddo ... we need to leave ... you're still recovering. I nearly lost you too, I won't let that happen, not ever. Bobby says we can stay over at his place ..."

"No, Dad ... please ... I can't leave ... not yet ..."

Pain's getting worse ... I start rubbing at my eyes.

"Sam?"

It hits me with such shocking intensity I yell out ... white spots dancing in front of my eyes ... Dad's urgent yells fading behind a wall of agony.

"SAM?"

Oh god ... please ... it hurts ...

The world is suddenly moving beneath me ... feels like I'm being pushed.

Something sharp slides into my arm. Hands lifting, moving, prodding.

I force my eye open again ... looking for Dad.

"Okay ... what have we got?"

A doctor? My head is spinning with the buzz of activity ... medical staff rushing around ... I can hear them talking, asking questions, but I just stare at them in confusion. The next few minutes becoming a continued blur of activity.

"Sam ... what part or parts of your body have numbness or tingling?

My mouth moves ... but I can't seem to speak.

"Okay, he's not responsive ... where's the medic who brought him in?"

My heart nearly stops when I see him, I recognise him from the helicopter. He starts rattling off a catalogue of my injuries ... but I watch him in stupid amazement. What the hell is happening?

"Get me a MRI scan of his head and spine."

I'm fighting to stay awake ... weak and drained... but I need to know ...

"Dean?"

The medic looks over at me briefly, moving forward to squeeze my wrist reassuringly.

"We're gonna fetch him now, Sam ... just hang in there, buddy ... you're in good hands."

I forget to breathe ... a nurse quickly adjusts the mask over my face, something else injected into my arm ... Dean ... they're going to fetch Dean? He's alive? I start trembling, the shock and relief washing over me like a tidal wave.

He's alive? What happened? Was I dreaming?

As that thought occurs to me, I know ... suddenly I know with a certainty, that what just happened to me was real. As real as anything I've ever felt. Almost like a vision. I don't know how... but I was given a glimpse of the future. And I can change it.

My heart rate speeds up. I try to talk, but no sound comes out ... I look at the people surrounding me in desperation. But they're all busy ... rattling off instructions ... I can't concentrate ... I try to fight it, try to stay awake, but my eyes close ... and I drift for a while.

A woman's voice startles me awake. I blink ... trying to concentrate.

"We're going to inject you with a dye, okay Sam? I'll also look after this for you."

She takes Dad's dog tags out of my weak grasp. I watch her as she moves away. I need to tell her something. They've moved me onto a narrow table, which they slide into a large tunnel-like tube. The machine produces loud thumping and humming noises. Someone's talking to me ...

"Okay Sam, the spine MRI will show us the exact location of any damage to the spine, spinal cord, or disks."

Please ... I have to tell you something ... but I start blacking out again ... waking up intermittently. Need to speak ... to the doctor ... I find myself being lulled by the pull of deep sleep.

"There's another critical patient on route."

... another critical patient ...

... remember ...

... critical ...

... Dean? ...

... help ... Dean ...

I gasp ... forcing myself to alertness... grabbing weakly onto the doctor's arm.

"... Dean ..."

He moves forward, trying to hear my softly whispered pleas.

"What, Sam? What is it?"

"Dean ... lergic ..."

I can't even hear myself. I try again ... using my last stores of strength...

" ... he's ... lergic ... penicillin ... serum ... sick ..."

He looks at me in surprised shock.

"Dean's allergic to Penicillin?"

"... ys ..."

Thank god, thank god ... someone understands.

He smiles down at me reassuringly, nodding his head ... but he still seems worried.

"Okay, we'll let them know. Get someone over to the ER and tell them that Sam's brother is allergic to Penicillin, they should be here any minute ... um, Dean ... Dean Davis."

I almost sigh with relief, letting myself finally relax.

"Sam, buddy ... I know you're tired, but we need you to try and stay awake a little bit longer. You think you can do that for me?"

Yeah.

"Sam, keep your eyes open."

Okay.

Darkness finally wins again, wrapping itself around me like a shroud, pulling me down ... I don't think I can push my way back ... don't have the strength to fight.

"Sam? Sam? Shit! ... Okay people, let's get him to the OR stat!"

Damnit ... I hope this isn't it ... really didn't want to die a virgin.

TBC