Disclaimer: Neither Jordan nor I own Supernatural.

A/N: Me: Okay. I'm gonna be the one begging y'all for reviews this time, because I really, really want input on this one. Why? Because, this chap, I took a whack at writing Dean and I really wanna know how I really did.

Jordan: Really?

Me: Really. :P

Chapter Eight – Screw You, Dean Winchester

It was a strange feeling, the odd numbness. Dean knew that he should be in pain, in serious pain after the fire. But wait… He had passed out in that fire, trying to retrieve his dad's journal. And if he had passed out… Holy crap, was he dead!?

Well, if he was, then he had just been proven right in being skeptical about the promise of some sort of heaven after death. There was nothing, nothing at all. Just a strange numbness, because he couldn't feel his body at all. And… a beeping sound? What the –

And it was then that it struck him. The beeping, in a steady rhythm that could only be a human heartbeat. So he was alive, in a hospital. But then, why couldn't he feel anything? Was he paralyzed!? Oh, great, that would be just what he needed, to become some sort of invalid, a drag on everyone who was totally useless…

But it was it possible to be totally paralyzed and still be alive? He couldn't even seem to find his eyelids, much less lift them…

And then he heard her. Jordan's voice was faint and sad, and it made Dean want to reach out and comfort her, but he couldn't figure out how. And it frustrated him, but at the same time listening to her words made him feel… better, somehow.

Jordan sat next to Dean's bed, his hand in hers. "Dean… I don't know if you can hear me, but it's not the same without you here. I mean… I know that we're usually joking around or doing… physical stuff, but you mean everything to me, and I can't let you die… I won't. Just know that. I love you so much."

She kissed his hand and rubbed it against her cheek, and Dean could hear the sound that her lips made as they pressed against his hand, hear her breathing, in and out and in and out… And he wanted so badly to be able to feel, to take in the sensation of her breath tickling against his skin, to know the feeling of her kiss… But again, it eluded him, and it was the most frustrating thing he had ever known.

He wanted to tell her that of course he could hear her, that he knew exactly what she meant, that he loved her, too, more than he could ever tell her. And he wanted to tell her that she didn't have to worry, because he would be coming back to her. He would, no matter what he had to do. But the words just flew around futilely inside his head, where only he could hear them and they did her no good at all.

And Dean Winchester couldn't remember ever feeling so useless.

It had been a week since the fire, and Dean still hadn't woken up. Lyn had finally gotten herself under control well enough to properly explain things to the women who had been kidnapped by the witch, and they were now long gone, back to their respective homes or wherever they had come from. It would probably take some time, but they would put the horror and shock behind them and move on, go back to their normal lives.

Lyn wondered vaguely what it was like to have a normal life. There had been times when she would have happily traded her own life for a normal one, but that hadn't happened since she had been with Sam. Despite the looming threat of the supernatural, while she had been with him and Jordan and Dean, she had felt safe, happy, like she was where she was supposed to be. And Jordan had been happy, too, which was just about as important to Lyn as anything.

But that wasn't how it was any more, and for the first time in a long time, Lyn was thinking about that normal life she had never had, and never would have. Jordan wouldn't be going through this now, if they weren't Elumos. Dean wouldn't be in the hospital in the first place, because he wouldn't have been forced to kill that witch, and Sam wouldn't have to be living day by day wondering if his brother would wake up. Lyn felt like she was dying, too, every time she saw that look in his eyes.

The doctors has been lenient with their one-visitor policy after Jordan had refused to leave Dean's bedside. She had sat there with him for seven straight days now, and every day when Lyn had been allowed to go in, she had watched her sister get paler and thinner and more desperate. And that hurt like a knife in Lyn's chest, knowing how much Jordan was hurting and not being able to do anything about it.

None of them slept much, because Lyn and Sam wouldn't leave, either. They were exiled to the waiting room except for a few hours a day, but still they stayed. They camped out on the uncomfortable chairs and tried their best to keep each other from going insane, but the situation was taking its toll. There were circles under every eye, hair grew unkempt, and already Lyn had had three allergy attacks to latex, a banana juice-spiked salad, and some old man's cologne. And that was just on the outside. The inside was worse, because hope was beginning to dwindle day by day.

Lyn was instantly worried when she walked in that day and saw her sister's face. Jordan had a strange look in her eyes, like she was steeling herself for something desperate. Lyn worried for Jordan's safety, but never in a million years would she have predicted what the younger woman was really thinking.

"It's been a week…" Jordan said quietly as she sat by Dean's bed, tracing her thumb over the back of his hand. Sam and Lyn were supposed to be getting lunch from the hospital cafeteria, and so this was probably her only chance. "Oh, God, I swore I would only do this as a last resort… Dean, if you can hear me, I'm sorry, but if I lost you… I just can't. And I won't. I'm gonna make a deal, Dean. Please try to understand."

She kissed his forehead and cupped his cheek in her hand, looking down at his battered, yet still as beautiful as ever, face. Then she placed a note on the bedside table that said something about needing space, grabbed Dean's leather jacket, and took the keys to the Impala before walking out the door.

From where he was trapped inside his comatose body in the hospital bed, Dean's mind was reeling. He kept mentally shouting for her to come back, that it wasn't worth it and he wouldn't let her do it, but it was no use. He couldn't bring her back, he couldn't stop her, and now she was going to –

No, no, she wasn't, she couldn't! She didn't understand, she had to be stopped – but there was no way to do that. Sam and Lyn would never figure it out until too late, and Dean couldn't even communicate to tell them.

God, how could she think to do something like this!? Didn't she understand that it was just a waste, that if he lost her, it would kill him, anyway? Didn't she know that he just wanted her to laugh and be happy and live? How was he supposed to live with the guilt of knowing that he was only alive because the woman he loved was –

No, he wasn't even going to think it. He refused, it wasn't going to happen. Sam and Lyn would catch her in the parking lot, she would never get far enough. She wouldn't be able to talk herself out of it; Lyn would see right through it, like she always did. Like Dean always did with Sammy. Because they knew, because they were older and they protected their younger siblings and Lyn would never let her do it.

But Lyn wasn't in the parking lot. Lyn was with Sam, in the basement of the hospital, getting food. Jordan had asked for them to bring her something back, and Lyn had been happy about that because Jordan hadn't been eating, Dean had heard it in her voice. That's where Lyn would be, in the cafeteria, safely out of the way because she thought she was doing what was best for Jordan. And nobody would be there to stop her from bargaining her life away.

And it was all his fault. His fault for going back for the journal, his fault for not being strong enough to make it out, and his fault for falling in love with her in the first place. How ironic, how horrible and cruel and unfair, that the thing he had valued the most only a week ago, his relationship with Jordan, was going to be the thing that cost her everything.

There was no one in the room to see the tear slide down the side of Dean's face.

Jordan stared down at the small tin in her hand. It held everything needed to summon a crossroads demon. She dropped it in the shallow hole she had made and refilled it. After straightening up and looking around, she was about to leave when she heard a deep voice behind her.

"Well, well, well. Jordan Elumo. They said you might summon me… Tsk, tsk, tsk. Little bit of boy trouble?"

Jordan turned around and came face to face with what could only be described as a walking, talking Adonis. She glared at him and hissed, "I want to make a deal, so let's cut the crap."

"Ooh… Feisty, are we? Fine, then… I was trying to be civil, but fine. So, what do you want?" 'He' shot back.

"Bring Dean out of the coma… Alive. Perfectly healthy. That means without any aches and pains, injuries, or fatal diseases," Jordan emphasized, her voice cold.

"Okay, I can do that… but what's with the emphasis on alive? Think I'm stupid or something?" the demon replied with a smirk.

"Nope… just a demon. I happen to know that the Winchesters have been a pain in the ass for you demons… You know, kicking ass and taking names. I want to make sure I get what I want."

"Ah, I see… Well, as always… you get a year. You try to weasel your way out of the deal, Dean goes from alive to compost faster than you can say 'coffin.' Got it?"

"Yeah, yeah… I get it. Can we just get this bitch over with?"

"You got it, sweetheart."

Before she could react, he pulled her to him and kissed her full on the lips. Her eyes went wide and she pushed at his chest until he pulled back.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!?" she yelled.

"Chill, hot lips… That's how I seal the deal." He smirked, and then vanished, and Jordan huffed and walked quickly back to the Impala. She got in and sped off, back toward the hospital.

It was a bizarre and completely unexplainable feeling, the sudden rush of sensations that seemed to hit Dean like a brick wall. He was suddenly very aware of how very heavy his body was, as it lay there on the tiny hospital bed. He could feel the tape on the back of his left hand, holding an IV in place. The smell of sanitary hospital air, seeming so artificial, pressed in on his senses. And, after all those long days and nights of wishing for nothing more than to be able to feel, he suddenly wanted nothing more than to fall back into that state of numbness, or even to die right then and there so that he would never have to feel again.

The ache in his throat and the burning in his chest alerted Dean to his sudden return to consciousness first. They weren't due to any medical condition that the crossroads demon could have prevented, though; this was a completely different kind of pain, a kind that Jordan obviously hadn't thought of.

"No," he croaked, his voice gruff from lack of use and the throbbing of his throat. He opened his eyes to find them already brimming with tears, but he fought those back as his thoughts became more clear and he became increasingly desperate. It couldn't be too late, there had to be something he could do, there had to be…

"Dean!?" Lyn gasped, and there was a crashing sound as she stood up too quickly from the chair she had been sitting in and it went falling backwards.

Sam was no better. His chair actually went flying against the wall as he shot up and toward his brother. "Dean, you're awake!"

A dead weight fell into the pit of Dean's stomach in stark contrast to what felt like a gaping hole in his chest. Of course, he had known this was coming since Sam and Lyn had returned with lukewarm cafeteria food and no Jordan. Lyn had read the note and been suspicious, but there was nothing anyone could have done at that point, anyway. And now Dean was the only one who knew, the only one who understood, and he knew that neither of the two who were looking at him in amazement had any idea why he no doubt looked horrified, pained, and nauseous all at the same time.

And, God help him, how was he supposed to tell them?

Jordan pulled up to the hospital and jumped out of the Impala, practically running to Dean's room. Finally, after what seemed like hours, she reached it – and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw him awake, surrounded by Lyn and Sam.

Dean's gaze was tumultuous, full of many emotions fighting for superiority, as it fell on Jordan. At the same time, he wanted to tell her off for doing something so stupid, demand to know how he was supposed to live with this, take her in his arms because he had missed her so much, and force down the lump in his throat long enough to ask how long she had. Would it be only minutes, like John had been given? And if it was, how was he supposed to tell her everything he wanted to – that he needed to – in that short space of time?

Distracted as he was by his rampaging thoughts and feelings, Lyn spoke before he did. "Where have you been?" she asked with raised eyebrows but a somewhat relieved look; Dean wondered with a sinking feeling just how long it would take before that relief turned to horror and dread. "You had me worried – you looked so strange this morning, I was afraid you might do something stupid like jump off a parking garage or something."

Jumping off a building, Dean thought slowly. No, it was much worse than that…

Jordan plastered on her best fake smile and looked from Dean to Lyn. "Yeah! Sorry, I just needed some fresh air. A few beers."

She then switched her gaze to Dean, and a genuine smile split across her face. She walked over to him and hugged him tightly, though not tight enough to hurt him, and whispered in his ear, "I love you."

Then she pulled back, the smile still present, and Sam shared a look with Lyn, both happy that Jordan was happy and that Dean was actually conscious. And Dean didn't have the heart to ruin that for them – not yet, not until he got some answers and knew for sure what was going on. So he just gave a huge grin at Jordan and said honestly, "You have no idea how good it is to be able to hear and see you say that. God, I missed being able to look at you."

There was dual purpose to the statement: obviously, it began to speak the tiniest bit (because no words could ever fully express) of just how Dean felt, and how he had felt when he had been out of it; and it also let her know that he had heard, and that he was going to want to talk.

"So that means you could hear us, when we talked to you?" Lyn asked with a raised eyebrow, looking surprised but pleased.

"Every word," Dean answered, and again his gaze flickered toward Jordan before a crease appeared between his eyebrows and he added, "That reminds me, Lyn – you kept muttering stuff, under your breath. It sounded like gibberish. You been having some sort of fits or something?"

Lyn looked confused for a second, and then a look of dawning comprehension crossed her face and she laughed. And it was an actual laugh, the first time any of them had laughed since before they had been here, and it made Sam smile at her. No, Dean thought as he saw the happiness in his brother's eyes with that weight that had settled into his stomach growing heavier; he definitely couldn't say anything yet. Not until there was no doubt he was right, that she really had gone through with it.

And even then, could he look Lyn in the eyes and tell her that he was the reason she was going to lose her sister?

Dean had forgotten during his musing that he had asked Lyn a question, so he was mildly surprised when she spoke: "Right, that. No, I don't speak gibberish – just Cherokee. I know you don't really believe in it or anything, but I tend to lapse into it when I pray. It's about the only time I ever do speak it since I left home. I guess I don't really realize I'm not speaking English or that I'm talking out loud."

Dean tried to keep his expression from falling too suddenly. Oh, God. She had been praying for him while he had been the reason her sister was making a deal with a demon. Somehow this just kept getting worse.

Jordan saw the many conflicting emotions in Dean's eyes. He kept looking at her, something in his face that she couldn't quite read. "Hey, guys? Can we be alone for a second? I doubt you want to see our reunion," she said, turning toward Sam and Lyn with a forced smirk on her face.

Lyn pulled a face and turned toward the door, muttering, "Just don't get the nurses or security called in or anything… He's still attached to a heartbeat monitor, remember…" Sam chuckled at her reaction and followed her out the door, shaking his head. Somehow everything was much more amusing now that Dean was going to be all right.

Dean watched carefully until they were well down the hallway outside the door that led back to the waiting room before he switched his gaze back to Jordan. Suddenly the only emotion in his eyes was sorrow as a chill of pure dread coursed through his veins. His voice was lower than usual, too, as he stated more than asked, "You did it. Didn't you."

Jordan winced. "Yes… But you have to understand… I couldn't let anything happen to you!"

Even though he had already known the answer to his question before he asked it, Dean suddenly felt that the world was crashing in around his ears now that she had said it out loud. His gaze shifted out of focus and fell to the blanket on his bed. She had really done it; this was it, he was going to lose her, and he couldn't even do anything about it! He was no longer trapped in his mind, with no access to his body, but merely within the staggering limitations of his humanity. He couldn't force the demon to release Jordan from the contract any more than he had been able to stop her from making the deal in the first place.

And he had been wrong, before, when he had thought that he could never feel more worthless. All the things that he had done over the years, with his dad and Sam and Jordan and Lyn – all the odds that he, and they, had beaten, and he couldn't save the one thing that was the most important thing in the world.

Dean didn't look back up, just tried to keep his voice from breaking as he asked in a voice so quiet that it was barely audible, "How long?"

Jordan looked down, tears threatening to spill over, as she whispered, "One year."

It was better than Dean had dared hope for, but those two words still sounded like the end of the world. Suddenly he didn't have the strength to sit up anymore and lay back quietly, staring unseeingly at the white tiled ceiling. He wished more than anything that he could just slip back into his coma, as if that would somehow reverse the deal and turn everything back to the way it had been. The way it should be, as far as he was concerned.

A year. He turned that idea over in his head and he liked it less and less each time. What kind of messed up demon would trade the rest of Jordan's life, minus one measly little year, for bringing him out of a coma? How could she even consider that deal!? She didn't get it, she didn't understand. He didn't want to be alive if this was what it meant.

And he could feel the tears stinging his eyes this time as he whispered, "You shouldn't have done it."

"I had to." Jordan suddenly felt like she couldn't breathe. The tears began to fall in rivulets. One year. She'd be leaving him in one year. The full weight of what she had done finally started to press on her shoulders and chest. "You have no idea what it was like, watching you lie there. Dying, slowly."

"Then you should have let me die."

The words were out of Dean's mouth before he was even aware of intending to speak them, but he couldn't say that he regretted them, either. It was exactly what he wished she had done, and he wondered vaguely if, were he to die anyway, the deal would then be nullified. Somehow, he doubted it. Demons were still demons, after all; they wouldn't give up their claim on a hunter that easily. But there had to be some way! He couldn't let himself believe that there wasn't, that this was really going to happen. He couldn't lose Jordan, too.

Jordan looked up at Dean, her eyes showing how hurt she was by his words. "Screw you, Dean Winchester." She turned on her heel and walked out, slamming the door behind her and walking toward the waiting room.