Dad wasn't going to be fine.

Dad wasn't fine.

Dad was dead.

"I'm sorry for your loss." Someone said.

I couldn't see the man's face. A doctor maybe? Everything seemed to have gone a surreal black and white and I swallowed hard. Voices continued talking. Give you some time. We know this is a shock. Take as much time as you need. I heard words but they meant nothing. I think I nodded; I didn't speak. Couldn't speak. I just wanted everyone to leave us alone. I must have nodded because people slowly drifted away and the room was empty. Except for Dad on the bed. Not fine. And us just outside the doorway.

Not fine either.

We didn't move. I have no idea how long we stood there hovering at the threshold. Probably only a few moments, but it seemed like a lifetime. Frowning, I tried to process what had happened, decipher the confusion, make sense of it all. What had happened? Sam was silent behind me, but I could hear his shaky breaths. He was still trying to snap my arm in half, but it was actually a good thing he was because he was basically holding me up at this point. I hadn't taken my eyes off of Dad during the chaos, but now, I was peripherally aware that someone had thoughtfully put two chairs beside the bed.

A chair sounded good right about now.

"Sam." I cleared my throat and sounded a bit stronger the second time, "Sam, I think we should… We should probably not stand in the hall."

"Yeah. Ok." He said, his voice no stronger than mine had been.

Dad wasn't supposed to die.

I stepped forward and he came with me for the first two steps, then suddenly released my arm. Without the contact, I felt cold and more unsteady. I grabbed the back of the closest chair so I wouldn't fall onto the floor and looked over my shoulder at him. He'd backed up against the wall. Just inside the doorway. Staring at Dad. Not apparently coming closer. Too tired to stay on my feet, I sank into the chair and lowered my head into my hands.

Just needed a minute.

It might have been longer than a minute. I don't know. Someone had politely closed the door at some point. They hadn't said anything and I hadn't bothered to acknowledge them. Forcing my head up, I looked over at the bed. Dad. Not fine. Not breathing. Not alive.

Dead. Dad was dead.

I shuddered and reached out to touch his hand. Still warm. I whispered, "Dad."

No response.

For a moment, I stared at him, fingers on his hand. Watching him as if he would magically wake up and tell me what to do now. Because I had absolutely no idea what to do now. Dad was dead. What was I supposed to do? Thoughts ran together and my head hurt. Needed to get it together, couldn't just sit here. I didn't know what I needed to do, but I was sure there were some sort of arrangements I needed to deal with. I probably should call Bobby.

I heard a shaky breath behind me. Twisting around, I glanced at Sam. He was staring at the floor now and still hadn't moved from his position holding up the wall. I realized this was the first time I'd looked at him, really looked at him, since this mess had started. And he looked terrible. I didn't remember anything from the accident and I'd only gotten the briefest synopsis once I'd awakened. Obviously, Dad and I hadn't been the only ones to take a beating. Everything before the accident was hazy, but I did vividly remember using the Colt on the demon that had been trying to pound Sam's head flat. He hadn't even had time to recover from that before he'd been in the same accident that had nearly killed me. I wondered how bad he'd been injured; and how much he'd been hiding from the staff as he worried over me and Dad.

"Sam?" I asked in concern. He blinked and lifted his eyes to meet mine. I didn't know what to say to him. But right now he needed to sit down as badly as I had. I pushed the second chair back a little and said, "Sit down."

He shook his head slowly and I expected him to say something, but he didn't. I sighed and said, "I should call Bobby."

Calling Bobby became a secondary concern a minute later when Sam's eyes closed and his knees gave out. I watched as he slowly slid down the wall to the floor. Not exactly moving as quickly as I might have had I not felt like crap, I did manage to reach his side in time to keep him from falling over sideways.

"Sam!" I kept a hand on his shoulder and pushed his head up with the other. His skin felt overly warm and I again wondered how much he was trying to hide. He blinked slowly at me, exhaustion and pain written all over his bruised and cut face. Shaking his shoulder, I said, "Sam, come on, man, talk to me."

But he just stared at me, blinking back the tears. He grabbed my arm after a couple seconds; his gaze returning to the bed. Studying him, I decided he was probably in shock and that maybe I should get some help. But I couldn't hold myself up in that crouched position any longer, so I just slumped down next to him. Maybe I was in shock too. Sitting shoulder to shoulder was about the only thing holding either of us upright. Again, I lost all track of time. I don't know how long we sat there in the quiet room trying to come to grips with everything.

After a while, though, Sam asked in a whisper, "What happened?"

While I was relieved that he was coherent enough to finally speak to me, I had no answer for him. I wanted to ask him the same question. Before I could say anything, he went on, a hint of despair in his voice, "What are we going to do?"

I fought back the panic and ache in my chest. He expected me to give him an answer. What were we going to do? Good question, Sam. I shook my head. Couldn't think. I hurt everywhere and felt like I was seeing everything through a haze. Looking up at Dad, I wished with all my heart that I could reverse time. But if I could do that, how far back would I go? A day? A week? Before Mom died? Letting my head rest against the wall, I sighed.

"Dean?" Sam's voice interrupted my thoughts. His voice was still a whisper. "You ok?"

"Just great." I muttered and shifted my head so I could look at him. Exhausted, still shocked eyes were assessing me even as I assessed him. Not sure which of us looked worse, I asked, "You have a phone?"

Sam nodded slowly and reached into his jacket pocket. My attention wandered again as I looked back at Dad. What would he tell me to do right now? I already knew. Go after the demon. Didn't matter what happened, he'd tell me to go after the demon. Go after the demon that had killed Mom. Same mission as always. But now it was the demon that had killed Mom. And Jessica.

And maybe even Dad. I had no way of knowing, of course, but it was a concerning possibility.

Something was pressed into my hand. Sam's phone. Bobby. I dialed Bobby's number, not sure what I was going to say. All too soon I heard his voice.

"This is Bobby."

I took a deep breath and said, "Bobby, it's Dean."

"Dean? Dean Winchester?" Bobby sounded incredulous and I didn't blame him. Last he'd heard, I was in a coma. Surprise.

"Uh, yeah." I hated how shaky my voice sounded, "Long story. Hey, Bobby, we...we, uh, we could use help."
"You don't sound good, son. What do you need?"

"Can you...if you're still around, can you come by…" I swallowed hard and tried to remember the room number. I finally remembered and gave him the number. "Bobby, Dad...Dad is... He's gone."

I heard an audible sob from next to me and felt Sam trying to move away. Grabbing his arm, I held him in place. I watched as he scrubbed a hand over his face, wiping the tears away, then he leaned back listlessly against the wall, eyes closed. He didn't try to get up again but I didn't let go of his arm. For a second, I listened to Bobby's shock transmitting across the airwaves. Cutting him off I said, "Bobby, can you…just, just get here, ok?"

He didn't sound offended at all with the way I'd interrupted him. He said, "I'm on my way."

I dropped the phone on the floor and pressed my free hand to my eyes. I felt dizzy and cold and like I wanted to go to sleep and then wake up from this nightmare. But there was no waking up from this. Dad was dead.

Like Mom.

It hit me like a ton of bricks. We were alone. Our family had lost another member. It was just me and Sammy now. No hope of finding Dad on the next hunt.

He was dead.

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