Dean sat on a wooden chair next to his brother's hospital bed. He refused to let him out of his sight, not that Sam could exactly get up and move either. It's been 3 weeks and Sam has shown no signs of waking up. Some doctors have suggested the possibility of Sam never waking, but Dean silenced them right away. He refused to hear anything negative and continued drowned in his own optimism about Sam's well being. Any day now, he thought, Sam will open his eyes and be in perfect condition. Then they'll walk out and go back to hunting. Yet all the unresolved cases Dean and Sam left behind didn't even matter to Dean. All that mattered was his brother.
For the millionth time Dean tried ringing Bobby. Bobby hasn't picked up for weeks, Dean assumed he was taking care of a serious case with Rufus. So when Dean heard Bobby's voice on the line he was beyond surprised.
"Hello?"
"Bobby! Where have you been? Sam and I have been calling you for weeks."
"Rufus and I have been hunting down some nasty tricksters. Took longer than we thought. Believe it or not the world isn't about just you two idjits. What was so important anyways?"
"It's Sam." Dean had a hard time telling Bobby everything that happened. Guilt engulfed him. All this could have been avoided if Dean had acted differently.
"Hell." Bobby stayed silent for a good minuete. He treated Sam and Dean like his own sons, and was crushed by the news. From the looks of it, Sam was not going to be ok. "Stay there Dean. 'I'll start driving your way."
Dean thanked Bobby and hung up.
Then, he was alone again with nothing but the sound of Sam's heart monitor to fill the silence. Dean practically lived with Sam in the hospital room, leaving only to use the bathroom or occasionally grabbing something to eat. He just couldn't take the chance of not being there when Sam finally awakes.
Bobby arrived roughly two days later. He forced Dean to get cleaned up (with much convincing) and sat with Sam when Dean couldn't. Every now and then, doctors and nurses would check Sam's vitals and the endless machines that kept him alive. When another week passed by, even Bobby started losing hope of Sam getting better. He sat down besides Dean in the gloomy hospital room.
"Dean, maybe we should start thinking about what to do if...if he doesn't wake up."
Dean looked up at Bobby then back at Sam, who was still unconscious in the bed. He felt bad for Bobby-to lose hope so soon, that was nothing but a weakness. He and Sam have gone through worse, getting shot, stabbed, even dying. But they always bounce back. Always.
"He's gonna be fine Bobby."
Bobby did not look convinced. "Look all I'm saying-"
"Bobby. He's fine." Dean just had to cut him off. It was one thing for Bobby to feel so negative, but there was no way he was going to let his brother hear anymore of what Bobby had to say. The doctor said that some patients can still listen to their surroundings while in a comma. Dean wanted Sam to know just how sure he was that he'll wake up.
"You're being unreasonable, Dean."
"No I'm not Bobby. I don't know what you expect from me. He's my brother, and I'm not doing anything until he gets better."
Dean watched Bobby sigh in frustration and leave the room. He leaned over his brother and shook his shoulders. "Come on Sam. I need you. I don't think I can deal with any of this without you." Sam of course didn't answer, still unresponsive in his comma. Dean closed his eyes shut to keep tears from escaping, and rested his forehead on Sam's chest. He felt Sam's chest go up and down with every breath he took. Awake or not, his brother was alive, and for now that was comforting enough for him.