Disclaimer: Neither Jordan nor I own Supernatural.

A/N: Me: As readers of On the Run will already know, we apologize for going AWOL for a while there, but Jordan here was at camp.

Jordan: Yeah, with a bunch of freaking jerks…

Me: Freaking jerks are prevalent these days, unfortunately. But anyway, we are back with a new chapter!

Jordan: And we need reviews muchly! -puppy dog eyes-

Me: You realize those really aren't all that effective…

Jordan: Maybe they will be, wait and let's see! -crunch-

Chapter Seven – Barely Holding On

Jordan sat in the front of Lyn's car, hugging her knees and chewing on her nails with a faraway look in her eyes. The Impala was going at least 50 in front of them, which Lyn was matching.

"He'll be all right," Lyn reassured her sister with a sideways glance, guessing what Jordan was worrying about. Mostly because it was the same thing she had been worrying about only a few minutes before, when Dean and Jordan and Sam had all been inside the witch's burning house. If something had happened then, and they hadn't come back out… Lyn suppressed a shudder and tried not to think about it. Regardless of promising Sam that she would wait outside, she doubted she could have just stood there and watched the roof cave in on top of them.

A fat tear ran down Jordan's cheek; she didn't even bother to wipe it away. "I don't know what I'm gonna do if he…" She stopped talking, not trusting her body to keep from breaking down completely on her.

"Don't," Lyn said sharply, grasping Jordan's shoulder with one hand and continuing to drive with the other. "Don't think like that, okay? Just listen to me: He's gonna be fine. He will. Sam won't let him – won't let anything happen, all right?"

"Uh… what's going on?" asked a small voice from the back seat, which was followed by murmurs from the five or six other women crammed into the back of Lyn's car.

Jordan leaned away from Lyn's grip and rested her head against the window, shutting herself off from the rest of the car completely.

"Just focus on staying calm, for now," Lyn advised, as much to herself and to Jordan as to anyone else. Her voice was calm and gentle, but her Southern accent was thicker than usual, the only sign that spoke toward her current unstable emotions. "The last thing we need right now is for somebody to hyperventilate or go into shock. We'll try to explain all this when there's time, but somebody got hurt back there and we're not gonna be able to do that properly until we're sure he's all right, okay?"

"Okay," the same scared voice agreed, and the car became suddenly silent. It was almost eerie with the lack of the usual country or classic rock blaring from the speakers and the only sound being the occasional sniffle or low murmur of comfort from one girl to another.

The hospital waiting room wasn't very crowded at two o'clock in the morning, all except for the corner of the room where a half dozen or so fairly frantic women were huddled around Sam, Lyn, and Jordan. All of them wanted answers and, since Jordan had gone fairly catatonic after her few words in the car and was presently huddled silently in a chair, it was up to Sam and Lyn to attempt to restore order.

"Please try to keep it down," Lyn said in a low voice that was supposed to sound earnest but came out more weary than anything. "There are people right there –"

"But I want to know what's going on!" insisted one woman who had gotten over the fear part and was now on to straight hysteria. "You said you would tell us –"

"This really, really isn't a good time," Lyn almost pleaded.

"It wasn't a good time for me to be turned into a snake, either –"

"Shh!" Lyn hissed, casting a suspicious glance at a teenage boy who was eyeing the group strangely. "Look, if you want us to tell you anything, you're going to have to calm down and think rationally! You can't just shout about things like this in public, for heaven's sake!"

"Um… excuse me? Are you the family of… uh… Dean Winchester?"

A doctor walked into the waiting room, carrying a clipboard and looking exhausted. Jordan jumped out of her seat and practically ran over to her. "Yes, I am. Please… is he going to be okay?"

"He's… in a coma. So we can't assess his full situation until he wakes up… if he wakes up."

Jordan's expression went from hopeful to unbelieving to devastated in two seconds. Her eyes welled up with tears, which she let roll down her cheeks in rivulets. "No…" she whispered. "You're lying…" She shook her head slowly before sinking to the ground.

"Unelanvhi, tla," Lyn whispered, gripping Sam's arm tightly and feeling mildly nauseous as she watched her sister crumple to the floor.

"I'm sorry about your friend," the hysteric woman by Lyn and Sam pressed, "but please –"

"No, you're not, so just freaking shut your godforsaken mouth already!" Lyn snapped, suddenly pushing past the woman and approaching Jordan tentatively before kneeling beside her.

"JJ," Lyn said in a low, hoarse voice as she reached for her sister's hand, tears sparkling in her darkening green eyes but still restrained by what little willpower she had left at this point. "Jordan… listen to me, it's not over yet. He's not through fighting, and you're not gonna give up yet, either, you hear me?"

Sam swallowed the lump in his throat, thanked the doctor, and pushed past a few women, moving to stand behind Lyn.

Jordan didn't say anything; she couldn't. She felt completely numb and completely overwhelmed by her emotions at the same time.

"You can visit him, if you want to," the doctor said. "One at a time, though. I'm sorry…" She looked down, and then turned away and retreated back down the hall.

"Jordan," Lyn repeated, the fear in her eyes only growing as her sister failed to respond. "Jordan, please, just say something. Please."

When Jordan still remained silent, Lyn's hands began to shake. Her voice, too, was so unstable it was barely recognizable as she half pleaded, "D-do you want to – t-to go see him? Get up, at least, Jordan, please, you'll just – just make yourself sick, this way."

Lyn's voice died in her throat, then, and she couldn't speak the rest of the words that rang in her head: Please, please, just get up! You've got to get up and keep fighting and believe he'll be okay! You can't give in and close up like this, it'll kill you. Please, Jordan, we can't lose you now, not like this!

Jordan's lower lip trembled, her eyes seeming unseeing. Visions of Dean lying in a hospital bed, his body being violated by tubes and needles, ran through her head. She started to shake her head violently. Sam pushed the curious women who had begun to crowd them back, starting to think she might go into shock.

A nod was the only way Lyn could find to communicate to Jordan that she understood, that it was okay, that she didn't have to go. Lyn could barely breathe past the constricting of her throat, much less speak. She put a hand on her sister's shoulder, a hand that was supposed to be comforting but was just too shaky and uncertain for that. With one hand on Jordan's shoulder and one on her arm, Lyn tried to pull upward, to convince her to get up off the floor. Of course, she could have lifted her – although maybe not, considering how badly her hands were shaking at the moment – but she just wanted Jordan to move on her own, to give some sign that she wasn't just giving up completely.

Jordan finally turned to look at Lyn, her eyes wide with terror and filled with tears. She finally spoke, her voice barely a whisper: "I have to see him."

Suddenly she got up and walked away toward Dean's room, leaving everyone looking after her. It was a long moment before anyone moved, but finally Lyn stood shakily and wrapped her arms tightly around Sam, hiding her face against his chest and finally letting the tears fall. He rested his chin on top of her head and pulled her impossibly closer. "It'll be okay," he told her in a reassuring whisper. "They're both strong… They'll pull through it."

I hope… he added in his mind. It was an almost unbearable thought, the idea of losing Dean, but he knew – or kept telling himself, anyway – that Dean was strong, too strong and too stubborn to die like this. He would fight with all his strength to come out of it.

But what scared Lyn was that she wasn't sure any more whether Jordan was willing to fight to live.

Jordan walked through the door to Dean's room, prepared for anything. What she saw was much worse than what she had been prepared for.

Dean lay on a lone hospital bed, tubes in his nose and throat, needles in his arms and hands. There were second degree burns on his arms, chest, and beautiful face.

"Oh, God…"

She slowly approached his side and looked down at him, tears dripping onto his bandaged hand.