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Now on with the story.

THROUGH FIRE

Chapter 5

The back of Mariah had become as familiar to Dean as the buzzing sounds of the machines surrounding Sam in his room.

Early morning, before the doctor would arrive, she rearranged the medicines flowing through the IV. Checking his brother's vitals, her face had become serious as she wrote something on a clipboard.

Dean wanted to know what exactly made her look like that, but at the same time he knew that Mariah was someone who took her job as Sam's nurse seriously.

This woman had Sam's life in her hands. It was her job to constantly look for new signs and warnings that things weren't as they should be. As Mariah tucked in Sam's arm under the cover though, smiling slightly at Sam, Dean knew that he didn't have to worry.

"Is everything alright?"

"He's fine," Mariah nodded at him. "His doctor should be here in," she checked her watch, "ten minutes. He'll answer any question you might have."

The only question Dean needed answered was when his brother would wake up, but no one would be able to answer that question, no one except Sam.

Thinking about the possibility of Sam not waking up was something that made his heart beat so fast in his chest, he was sure it could explode.

There was no one else to blame if anything should happen to Sam now. Dean had been able to stop them from going on that hunt, but he hadn't. Why hadn't he stopped Sam from going on the hunt? Nothing was more important to him then Sam being okay, and he would have done anything to make sure Sam was okay.

But he hadn't known.

Dean hadn't known how deeply Sam had cared about Jessica. It was like watching a boat sailing into a terrible storm. No one was coming to the rescue.

It was just that devastating fact when you realized it was slowly sinking.

Had he really been that blind?

Wherever Sam went after Dean had saved him from those angry flames, he always seemed to look back at the life he had sought out to find.

Dean did see it clearly.

Even though there was nothing left for Sam, he was stuck and it seemed as if he would never be free from those memories, the dreams haunting him.

Sam never seemed to see his brother through his haze of sorrow, but Dean knew he was looking back, looking back at the way he carried that dream, at the way Jessica's invisible steps held that painful loss.

When Dean had come to get Sam, it was like he wanted to win him back. He wanted to take him away from that life he was determined to live. Yeah it was selfish, but he didn't want to look for his dad all by himself. He needed Sam with him, because that way he could mend the distance between them. He could make sure that their family became whole again.

Now, he realized he hadn't won anything. Everything he saw in front of him was the painful evidence of his own loss.

How could he never have seen how Sam had been burned too?

Jessica Moore had burned until there was nothing left, but it had reached Sam too. In the storm of danger, so ripping, so cold - the fire had spread and burned a hole in his heart.

And he hadn't been able to fix it.

Dean had thought that hunting would fix everything. It was the thing they knew how to do. What he should have expected was that recklessness in Sam, how Sam no longer cared what happened to him.

I should have known, he thought when he stared at the waves painting the waves of Sam's heart.

A knock on the door made him stand up from the chair he had been occupying.

"Hello. How are we doing today?" Dr. Graham spoke as if Sam was already awake.

Dean supposed it was to trigger something within Sam, just as when he himself had talked to Sam silently hoping his words would reach Sam.

He took out a pen light, which he inspected Sam's eyes with. "Still unresponsive," Dean could hear him mutter.

"What does that mean?"

"It means," Dr.Graham paused to do a sternum rub, that Dean knew tested to see if Sam responded to deep pain stimuli, "that nothing has changed. He's not responding to pain either."

Dean regarded the doctor quietly as he scribbled down more notes on the clipboard.

"What happens if he remains unresponsive?" He didn't really want to know, but somehow he found that he needed to ask anyway.

"Let's just wait and see."

Wait and see. Wasn't that what he had been doing constantly?

Dean didn't say anything when Dr. Graham proceeded to do more tests on Sam. He didn't seem to get the result he was looking for, as he kept scribbling more and more.

"We need to do an EEG and a MRI as well, to look at your brother's brain."

"Why?" Dean demanded. "What's wrong?"

"We need to see if there's any brain activity in your brother's brain." Upon seeing Dean's arched brows, he added, "Don't worry, these things always go smoothly."

Dean stiffened. "How long will it take?" He was thinking about the fact that Sam couldn't breathe on his own, which meant he wouldn't be able to lie in a machine for too long.

"It will take about half an hour."

There was a part of Dean that started to ache.

What would happen if the brain activity was too low?

He spoke to Mariah quietly, but Dean had already turned all his attention to Sam, not bothering to try to hear what they were talking about.

"I'll see you in a while, Sam." Dr. Graham then patted Sam's arm before he left with Mariah.

They disappeared out of the room, their voices fading away into the other voices whirling around in the hospital.

oooOOOooo

"What's this I hear about you not responding? Huh?" Dean sighed. He was trying so hard to keep his voice light when talking to Sam, but now all he felt was like all those walls he had so carefully put up were all breaking down in front of him.

Sam wasn't in his reach anymore, and not knowing where his little brother was, was something he had never wanted to face.

Yet here he was, trying everything he could to reach him, to get through to him because Dean couldn't let go of that beacon of hope existing inside of him.

"So I talked to Dad today," he muttered.

So maybe talking about their father wasn't such a good idea, especially with everything that was going through his head right this moment but Dean needed to. He needed Sam to know certain things.

For the first time in his life, he'd seen his father through Sam's eyes, almost forgetting how they'd held such knowledge even when he was young.

But what had Sam really seen in his father when he left for Stanford? A selfish obsession? Or something else?

Had it been his words, or actions? Maybe the truth was that Dean had been so focused on wanting to help his dad that he hadn't even noticed what their father was really doing.

What Dean had heard during that conversation over the phone was something so terrible that he was almost shocked he hadn't noticed it before.

That vision John seemed to have, like there was nothing else but hunting was like a tunnel in the dark with a flame at the end of it.

Did he even know that it could destroy his family if he went for it?

Apparently not.

Everything seemed to fade a little when hunting was involved, especially if it had something to do with how their mother died.

What Dean just couldn't see, was how it could be more important than the life of his own son.

Now that Dean really had seen it, a determination blazed inside of him. He wasn't going to let John Winchester come near his brother even if his life depended on it.

"You know that time you told me that he was too obsessed with revenge? Well, kid, I think you're right," Dean breathed heavily. "I didn't always think he was perfect, but I knew why he was doing it. That's why I kept following his orders."

It was important to Dean that Sam knew that he hadn't been following his father blindly. He'd been following his orders because it was the only way he could make sure that his family was safe.

"Don't think that... don't think that I always agreed with him. Sometimes his ideas were plain crazy, Sammy."

Dean smirked. "He never had to tell me that I needed to look out for you because… I just knew."

He'd always known that Sam was his to protect, and he never really needed his father's words of caution either.

As Sam's big brother, it was obvious that it was his job, and his job only to make sure that Sam was safe.

But now, now he didn't know what to say. There was so much he should say right now, but the words just wouldn't come.

How could he even begin to explain the vast emotions surfacing, while he'd realized how deep that obsession of their father's had really been?

How could he tell his brother that he only had one priority in his life, and it sure as hell wasn't hunting.

Staring at Sam's face, watching that thick brown hair that seemed so much browner against his pale skin, it was as if someone had put needles in his eyes.

Tears were leaving that familiar burning on his cheeks, but he found he couldn't bring himself to care. Dean just wanted to reach out to Sam, and pull him back out of that place where he was now.

"Sammy, I don't know where you are right now, but you gotta snap out of it, you hear?" Dean's hand held onto Sam's roughly, as if he never intended to let it go. "I need you to be okay, kiddo. I couldn't… I can't…" he faltered.

He could only stare at his baby brother. "I need you to wake up, Sam. You have to. You just have to."

Dean's other hand brushed away those unruly bangs from Sam's eyes, just because he didn't know what else to do.

oooOOOooo

That long wait, just standing outside that closed door, while Sam had to spend thirty minutes in a machine was killing him.

Dean never thought waiting would be this painful, that it would be this hard.

But it was.

It was like someone had stolen his Impala, only to run it straight through his heart. That tightness in his chest was almost like the sensation of that car crashing.

What was worse was that Dean couldn't even see his brother now, couldn't see anything but that door blocking him from the sight of his brother.

No matter how many times Dr. Graham would tell Dean how safe it would be, it didn't stop him from worrying.

How could he not?

His little brother was lying in there, not only unconscious but comatose, and he was going to lie stuck inside a machine for thirty minutes.

So what if it was a safe procedure? Sam was still his brother, and Dean had the right to know exactly what was happening to him.

What felt like hours later, Sam was rolled out looking just as he'd been before. Dean didn't even know if it was a good thing.

"We'll have the answers soon," Sam's doctor informed him. "I think we'll wait with the EEG. I don't want to move him too much right now."

Dean didn't have an answer to that.

How long would it take for his brother to lose more weight? Even now he looked terribly pale, and his hands were definitely looking too thin.

"I'll be back in an hour," Dr. Graham said, as Sam was back in his room.

Dean started to rearrange the blankets around Sam, before sitting down. "Looks like we have an hour to kill then, kiddo."

oooOOOooo

In the elevator one hour later, Dean studied the different floors, reading because hopefully it would keep the panic at bay.

It didn't work. Then again it rarely did.

"So, doc," he said, in an attempt to sound casual. "How does this work exactly?"

"Well," Dr. Graham said, as the door opened. "In an EEG, electrodes are placed on the scalp over multiple areas of the brain to detect patterns of electrical activity. You also check for abnormalities."

Dean raised his eyebrows.

"In your brother's case," he continued, "the most important thing is to see the electrical impulses produced by the brain cells."

And that was supposed to make sense?

Well, it kind of did, but that was mostly because Dean had been trying his hardest to understand all things medical ever since they had arrived at the hospital.

As a white door shut closed for a second time that day, Dean felt as if he couldn't breathe. It became physically hard to tell his mind how to breathe, as if he'd never done it before.

The only good thing was that this wouldn't take too long, and those results were going to come soon as well.

As if that would make him feel better.

It was a steep mountain he had to climb and he didn't quite know how to get there yet. When he thought about his father, Dean felt like kicking something, and then there was Sam who didn't deserve the disaster that had been thrown his way.

All that guilt that was running in circles in Dean's head was always there, telling him that he was the one that was responsible for Sam ending up in the hospital in the first place.

Nothing could change the way he felt.

Now everything seemed to revolve around Sam, and this hospital that he almost knew by heart by now.

During the many hours he had wandered those corridors unable to sleep, or just because he wasn't allowed inside his brother's room, it was impossible now to remember the different places in that white sterile environment he was currently in.

Sometimes it was a strange feeling to see so many other people, some maybe in the same situation as he was in. There was that woman in the elevator, her hair looking just like old gold. Nothing could conceal the emotions in her eyes. You just knew she'd seen death or something very close to it. There were people leaning against the solid walls, their eyes closed but their heads pointing to the ceiling like they had just sent a prayer to a higher power, trying to find out if someone had received it on the other side.

Could he really tell himself that he hadn't done the same thing, just because he needed to put his hope in something else?

For Sam.

Dean had now been there long enough to know the difference in the movements between someone who'd received the terrible knews of a disease, or the way someone walked when they'd just seen a child come to the world.

And at the same time every one of them had one person, maybe even more, something that kept them in the hospital, something keeping them strangely connected without anyone ever being aware of it.

But now Dean knew that he'd seen enough pain to see that raw desperation. It was so transparent to him that he didn't doubt it even for a second that it was the same thing that was reflected in his eyes as well.

oooOOOooo

Hours later, Dean felt his chest tighten with knots of dread as he saw Sam's doctor appearing in the doorway to Sam's room.

Eyes full of experience were sweeping the room that was darkened, quiet except for the beeps coming from the machines. Dean's eyes went to the clipboard the doctor was now holding, as if it held the possibility of revealing the world's greatest disaster.

"Dean," he acknowledged, as Dean's eyes met his. "We did lots of tests today, didn't we, Sam?" Dr. Graham turned to Sam. "I just got the results."

This made Dean's heart start hammering furiously in his chest. It was so loud it was drowning out the sounds of all the machines.

The doctor glanced at him. "Do you want the good or the bad news first?"

"The good," Dean answered, trying to ignore his thundering heart.

"Alright," Dr. Graham said. "We were able to see clear activity in Sam's brain. At times it was weak but it's definitely there."

"So when he wakes up he'll be okay?" Dean asked, almost forgetting to breathe.

"There's definitely an indication of that, yes."

Dean could almost hear a but in there somewhere. "What about the bad news?"

Dr. Graham consulted his clipboard. "We now think the seizure was a side effect of the injury, and the lack of oxygen to Sam's brain caused him to slip into a coma."

"What does that mean exactly?" Dean asked when he finally found his voice. "What's gonna happen now?"

"We just have to wait and see if Sam wakes up, and we will have to take it from there." Dr. Graham followed Dean's gaze when it strayed over to his little brother.

"But he will wake up? I mean if there's brain activity and all…" Dean trailed off.

"We don't know when Sam will wake up," the doctor continued. "There is also a chance that Sam might not wake up at all."

It was not something Dean wanted to hear, and yet the doctor had spoken Dean's constant fear, the unthinkable, something Dean never wanted to even imagine, let alone think about.

But it was there, hovering over him like a black cloud, the fear that Sam might never wake up.

The following night Dean couldn't sleep.

No matter how hard he tried, blurred thoughts of his father kept popping up but the worst were the memories about Sam that had now turned into nightmares.

It was those vivid memories of Sam letting go, the helpless sensation of watching him sink deeper and deeper into the water.

oooOOOooo

"Now remember, what this thing wants is to get you under water," John explained, staring hard at his sons.

Dean glanced at his brother, who was staring at something behind his father. "Sammy?" Dean nudged Sam with his elbow.

"Sam!" John roared. "Are you even listening to what I'm telling you?"

Wincing, Dean noted that harshness edged into their father's voice that he didn't quite like. "We know what to do Dad," he spoke up.

John's eyes swung from youngest to eldest. "The consequences will be dire if you don't. Remember that."

If he only knew how right he had been.

One hour later Sam and Dean were standing in front of the lake, so great that it looked more similar to the ocean they had been to five days ago.

"I still think this is a bad idea," Sam muttered quietly. "I don't even want to be here, not when I could do something much more useful."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Well, tough. We are here, so we might as well get the job done."

"I don't care about the job," Sam said sullenly, kicking a stick into the water.

"Yeah. I got that from the first twenty times you said it," Dean fumed, not being able to keep the irritation out of his voice. "But we need to focus here."

Sam didn't look at his brother. "Whatever."

"Alright," Dean muttered more to himself than anyone else. "That's it." He grabbed Sam's arm when he turned to walk away from him.

"Don't touch me."

"Stop acting like such a baby then."

"I am not…"

"Then lose the attidude." Dean glared at him. "This isn't a game, Sam. Things will get dangerous if you're not paying attention. You know that."

Sam was silent.

"Let's just finish this," Dean sighed, turning to Sam. "Okay?"

But Sam wasn't standing next to him anymore.

As Dean looked around, his eyes scanning for his brother, he realized he couldn't see the figure of his brother anywhere.

It took over ten minutes before his green eyes finally fastened on Sam. Relief would have been washing over him, but it didn't. Instead a knot of panic tightened in his stomach.

Sam was in the water.

"SAM!"

He ran out on the landing made of wood, trying to keep his brother in sight as he did so.

"D-Dean," Sam tried to say, apparently fighting whatever force that was pulling him down.

"Sammy," Dean panted, reaching for his hand in an attempt to pull him out.

But Sam's hand was already slipping out of his, his brown eyes widening in fear.

"Don't you let go, Sam." He tried to pull him out of the water. "C'mon."

It was too late. Sam's hand was slipping away, just as Dean fell into the water.

"SAM?" His voice echoed all around him.

Sam was gone.

oooOOOooo

It was enough to make Dean wake up, panting, gasping for breath as if he had been the one sinking into the water.

Somehow he couldn't help wondering if Sam remembered what had happened, and if he did, if it felt like that time when Sam had almost drowned in the bathtub. Had he not wanted Dean to save him, like he had managed to in that lake?

Dean didn't know.

It was a constant nightmare that kept replaying itself inside his head. When he remembered what had happened, he knew it had felt like a living nightmare pulling Sam out of that lake.

That time had been like one of those times when he'd had to force himself to act faster, trying to stay calm even though it was impossible.

The knowledge that he might have been the reason for why they both had lost focus was why he would never forget that day.

oooOOOooo

Sam was blue.

When Dean had put his ear to his throat, he hadn't been able to hear anything but his own heavy breath.

Giving his little brother CPR, it was as if Dean's body had started to act on his own, automatic.

There was nothing like that relief he felt when Sam started to cough water, finally starting to breathe.

But then Sam's eyes started to close.

"Sam? Sam!" Dean felt the sensation of his throat tightening.

Gently, Dean brushed Sam's damp hair away from his forehead, before pulling him closer for warmth.

Sam's voice had vibrated through him like some kind of electricity. "D-Dean g-get o-off," Sam stuttered.

But he hadn't cared, because his brother would be okay.

oooOOOooo

When he stared at the present Sam, he was almost reminded of the 15-year-old version. Dean couldn't help but wonder if that paleness had been the same one as when he had pulled Sam out of the water.

It was almost hard to look at Sam when he looked that pale, that fragile. Dean could barely stare at Sam without feeling that familiar stinging in his eyes.

And yet he couldn't look away.

But there was something he had to do tonight, something he'd been putting off because he'd felt the need to constantly be near Sam.

"Sammy," he whispered, moving so that his cheek almost touched Sam's. "You have to wake up, buddy." Dean wanted to shake Sam awake like he had done so many times before. "Come on," he whispered more urgently, almost positive Sam could feel his tears now. "Don't you let go."

It had almost been impossible to leave his brother, but then he reminded himself that he was doing this for Sam.

The Hospital Chapel wasn't really big, but it held the serenity you couldn't find anywhere else in the hospital.

But when he finally sat there, he was at a loss for what to say. Hell, he wasn't even sure if he knew how to do it. For an hour he had stared at the statue of the Virgin Mary wondering if those stone angels above her were supposed to be watching over her.

Dean silently shook his head. He didn't believe in angels. Not anymore.

Right now though he was going to have to try, because something had brought Sam back when he'd found him in the water and maybe, just maybe if he sent a prayer up there, that something would bring Sam back to him again.

oooOOOooo

There was a blinding light.

It was strong enough to reach him through his closed eyelids, where he lay on something solid on the ground. But as that light became stronger, the greater the pain behind his eyes became.

Sam had no other choice but to open his eyes.

He didn't know exactly what he had expected. Maybe everything would hurt because that would be qualified as some kind of punishment, but nothing hurt.

Sam's eyes were staring towards what would be a ceiling if there hadn't been some sort of silvery sky there, above those shadows leaving vapor trails.

Sitting up, Sam didn't realize where he was. It was simply nothing like he had ever seen, at least not that he could remember. It was as if there was nothing solid. There were only shadows that were made of some kind of white fog. Where the light he had seen was, he didn't know. Maybe it was something he'd imagined, because his mind was playing tricks on him in a place like this.

And yet, he was sure he'd seen it, something that was so strong, it had felt like watching lightning with closed eyes.

As he stood up without difficulty, almost scared to feel the ground beneath his feet, he felt as if there were soft clouds surrounding him. When he realized that he was definitely standing on something solid, even if he couldn't determine what it was, he began to look around.

Faster than Sam could blink, it appeared like lightning on a stormy night, but with the power to light up a room.

There was a light in the distance now, yet it was coming closer with every second.

If Sam had never known what the sun looked like, he would be thinking that he was staring at something like a golden angel coming out of the sun.

There was no sign of anything resembling lightning. There was only that soft glow around a beautiful figure he was sure he'd seen in his prayers.

Before him, Jessica Moore was standing.

oooOOOooo

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