A/N: Ok, so wicked sorry about the delay. Real world etc. etc..
Don't own 'em but I will muahahahahahahaha. J/K ;)
Past the hundred word mark because it's going to be Sam's POV from here on out. It's hard to see inside an unconscious man's head from here.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Down, down, down and it's over.
He shivers despite the sunlight.
Glances over.
Dean's still.
Too still.
A string of bloody saliva connects his cheek to the ground.
Sam's up in a heartbeat.
Right now, everything's a heartbeat and they're running out.
"Dean!"
No response.
Falls to his knees.
Lifts one eyelid.
Pie plate pupil in a sea green iris.
Unresponsive.
He's never moved so fast in his life.
From the schoolyard to the Impala in an eye blink.
Doesn't even remember starting it.
Presses the pedal so hard he's sure it's going through the floor any second.
Faster.
He blows a red light.
Please.
Another.
Then he sees it.
White H. Blue background.
Sharp right, fishtails.
The hospital is all bright lights and sympathetic faces.
It makes him sick.
Been here before.
Done this before.
Didn't like it then.
Likes it less now.
The wires and tubes and yelling and blood.
The worried sideways glances.
Like he's made of glass.
The false promises and bullshit lip-service.
He doesn't need someone to tell him it'll be ok.
He knows it will.
It has to be.
There is, simply, No. Other. Option.
In the space of a breath the noise level rises.
Fills his ears until he swears his head's gonna burst.
Then…..
Silence.
Like a vacuum yawning into eternity.
Broken at last by a sure and steady beep, beep, beep.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"I'm not dead yet, oh no, I'm not dead yet.
I'm a mad dog fighting with a wall against my back.
You better get a bigger gun, I'm not dead yet."
"Not Dead Yet"--Styx