A/N: I am really sorry that this comes so late, and there actually will be one more chapter and I promise that it will be the last. But I just needed to get this up here since I have been keeping you all waiting for too long.
I do hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and a New Year's. I also want to thank my friends who always keep me going - Devan, Jess and Funky.
THROUGH FIRE
Chapter 7
"Then what exactly is it?"
"Couldn't tell you," she said, "even if I knew."
It was the darkness in her voice that made Sam forget whatever it was that he needed to know, because somehow it just didn't seem to matter anymore. Jessica Moore was standing there in front of him with such light in her eyes, that Sam was reminded of that dream he'd had for longer than he could remember. And there she was, as if she was carrying his whole world in her arms.
Sam didn't even know how long he'd been harbouring that longing of being seen, of being heard. To be seen for someone else then just a hunter, even if he never knew what exactly it was that he was looking for. It only came to him when he was standing still, when he didn't run – and he found that he completely forgot what it was he really wanted.
But nobody had seen him like Jessica Moore had. She might not have seen him before Stanford, or known about what was hidden in his past – but she has the ability to see his soul. Sam could feel the pride in her eyes, just like she knew Jess could see all that love that existed in his heart. She was running through his head, as if she could lay herself down there and completely enter his mind.
And she was still everything he'd secretly dreamed about.
Sometimes he knew he hadn't had the guts to tell her the secrets of his heart, but he didn't need to. She had already colored every bridge to his soul.
And now he was waiting in the silence that was heavy with thousands of small hidden noises.
Now, Sam had difficulty seeing what was real and what wasn't. The only he knew was how solid Jess seemed, and he should know – since he'd held that hand more times than he could remember.
"So, Sam...what's going on?" Jess was staring at him just like that, like her eyes had the power to penetrate his soul.
"Y-You tell me."
"I think it's safe to say, that if you're here," she said, "something's obviously wrong.."
Which of course Sam hadn't really given much thought ever since he'd arrived here, wherever "here" meant. And right now he didn't even care, because she was standing there, standing right in front of him looking like all those women in the angelical paintings that everyone admired.
She was so beautiful.
Sam had really tried to move on, he had, but something seemed to stop him. Sam longed for that girl that had in many ways made him believe in himself, longed for just one moment with her. But through that longing, claws were always gripping at him, painfully and slow. And the fact that she was somewhere else, when she at the same time constantly lived in his thoughts was something that had slowly been killing him.
Every stone, every memory, Sam knew he should have given her everything like she so clearly was prepared to give him.
Everything he saw now was Jessica Moore.
It was like he had been the one that was burning, like a swallow in an ocean of fire. And nothing could cool his wings, nothing could take away that burning, stinging, scratching sensation.
You were supposed to protect the people you love. Period.
His dad and his brother never failed to show him examples of that, but he'd failed in doing that too – just like he'd always failed when it came to hunting. He was just never good enough, and now look where it had gotten him?
Given who was standing in front of him, it wasn't that bad. But she shouldn't even be standing there in the first place.
Although everything just seemed to scream disaster, Sam somehow found that the only thing he could focus on right now was the angelical creature standing before him. It was like he was wrapped up in pink cotton clouds when he was standing there with her, and nothing in the world existed but them.
After what seemed like a lifetime, Sam realized that this was his second chance, and that he had to take it.
Ever since she'd been gone, he'd been pushing himself further down that road to recklessness, hunting with guilt bordering onto an electrical fury. And somewhere along the way he stopped caring about what would happen to him.
Just to so he could end up next to her, just to get that one last moment with the only woman he'd ever loved.
"Jess..." he started.
She blinked up at him. "If you're going to say what I think you are, then you can stop it right there."
"Stop what?"
Sam could only stare at her, not knowing how he had survived all those weeks without her. Without a word, his heart had been in her hands. And now as she was looking at him, it was just like he was back at Stanford and she was trying to tell him something that she needed him to understand.
Jessica took a deep breath before looking up at him. "I don't need you to tell me that you're sorry."
"Maybe you do..." Sam muttered more to himself than anyone else.
"I do know, but that's not the point," Jess cut him off gently, "No one could have stopped this, nothing would have changed... not even if you'd let me in on your...past." Those velvet blue eyes fogged up. "Evil is still evil, and sometimes no one can stop it," she paused, "no matter how much you want to."
"I should have protected you."
Jess stared at him just as she had all those nights when he'd experienced those headaches he could never explain, as if she was the one in pain and not him. "No one could have protected me,Sam. You need to accept that this..." she waved her hand around, "wasn't your fault."
"How can you say..."
"I never blamed you."
Tears were clinging to those eye lashes like small drops of water threatening to fall. More than anything else it was those tears glistening there that made him stop and wrap his arms around her. The words got stuck in his throat, almost as if they had disappeared somewhere within her golden hair.
"I never blamed you, Sam," she whispered again, as if he didn't hear her the first time.
But he'd heard her
After all, those words were something that had the power to make him feel as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. All those feelings he'd carried inside of him for so long, she was basically telling him that they shouldn't be there.
But Sam knew differently, even though no one else seemed to be able to see it. No matter what had really happened that night, Jess had still sacrificed her life – for him. She had protected him, just like his mom had protected him so many years ago.
Jessica had faced death because something was obviously after him. It couldn't be a coincidence that the two women in his life had died the same way.
"Jess," he looked at her, "you should be alive, you're not supposed to be here."
She only sighed. "Neither are you."
"If I'd never..."
"What, gone to Harvard? It doesn't matter, Sam. I could have gotten into a car crash, I could have died even if I had never met you." She blinked up at him, and now Sam could see tears falling down her face. "I don't regret anything, and neither should you."
"Jess," Sam breathed," I was prepared to m-marry you and I couldn't even tell you the truth. I should've told you the truth."
"I get it, okay. I do." Her hand was circling his wrist as she got closer to him. "But the truth is, if I could have done things differently I still wouldn't have."
Now Sam could feel that burning sensation behind his eyes, that sensation that was familiar to him. "I never wanted you to die."
"I know," she whispered, her lips now burning a tattoo of pure love onto his neck.
Jessica Moore had given him every piece of her, and she'd died because someone wanted to get to him. But the fact that she didn't blame him was what made him realize that she had loved him as if it was her last day on earth. And as Sam could only see that golden mass of hair, as arms came around his neck, he knew that this had to be heaven.
He was holding it in his arms.
oooOOOooo
Dean couldn't believe that he hadn't called, or tried to contact him in any way. There were no messages on his phone, there was just a big fat pale of nothing.
Yeah Dean had forbidden his father to actually come and try to visit Sam, but that shouldn't have stopped him. He was supposed to do everything in his power to really make sure that his son was alright. Screw the consequences.
But he hadn't.
John Winchester was probably out there hunting, and Dean couldn't stand the thought.
It was just... unacceptable.
The tiny piece of joy he'd felt when he realized that Sam had moved in his bed had now faded away, faded just like the day always faded into night. Dean had actually started to believe that it had been nothing more than a reflex.
It wasn't a sign of life, it was just a fucking reflex.
It had almost been a month. A month of hoping and always trying to believe that those brown eyes would open. At this point he didn't care about all those consequences of side affects he'd pushed out of his head, he just wanted his little brother to wake up.
But he'd never been good at this kind of thing, Dean had never been good at believing.
That was Sam.
But Sam couldn't believe right now, he couldn't really do anything. And it just about killed Dean that he didn't know where Sam was, that he just didn't seem to be able to reach him.
If he couldn't reach him, he couldn't bring him back.
That day when his dad actually decided to call it went to voice mail. But Dean wasn't about to call, not this time. Because Sam's doctor had asked to speak to him, and you had to be stupid to not know how serious the situation had become.
And when Sam was hurt, nothing else mattered.
That he knew for sure.
oooOOOooo
"We're in the hospital."
"What! What the hell happened, Dean?" John Winchester barked out, loud enough that Dean had to lift the phone from his ear.
"Sam got hurt, Dad," Dean offered, the worry for his brother almost echoing. "He's in surgery."
"What's the verdict?"
"They say he's gonna be okay, but they have to readjust his bones." Dean took a deep breath before continuing. "When are you coming?"
But John didn't seem to hear him. "How did this happen again?"
"In school. There was a fight."
Well that's one way of putting it.
"Damnit, and where were you?"
"In class," Dean said coldly, pissed about the fact that his own father was apparently not going to show.
"You have to take care of your brother, Dean."
"I am."
"Don't you take that tone with me."
But he'd had it, he was sick with worry about that surgery even though he'd spent hours trying to convince Sam that he'd be okay. But for God's sake Sam was his little brother and nothing, nothing was supposed to happen to him.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm just worried about my little brother who hasn't stopped asking about you since we got here. He expects you to be here, and you know this time... so do I.
"Dean, I will be there." He could hear the sigh from miles away. "I just have to finish this, but I promise I'll be there."
"If you don't show, he's never gonna forgive you."
"Dean..."
"I'm serious, Dad."
Just thinking about how much pain Sam had been in when Dean had found him made him sick to his stomach. Not to think about what he could have done if he'd gotten there earlier.
Hell, they probably wouldn't even be here.
"When is he out of surgery?"
"Few hours."
"Just watch out for him ´til I get there alright?"
"When are you getting here?"
Any other situation this would have been Sam's job, to fight his point with John Winchester. But now Sam couldn't do it. And in the seriousness of what really could have happened, Dean realized that their father had stepped too far.
"Just do it, Dean," John said.
"I already am," he answered softly.
And he was.
He'd basically come to the point where he didn't care if John Winchester actually showed or not. He'd always taken care of Sam in ways their father didn't seem to manage. And John seemed to have failed to see the most important thing.
When Sam was hurt, nothing else mattered.
oooOOOooo
"What are you saying?"
The table that separated Dean from the doctor was turning into a blurry mass of darkened wood, and he could sense more than hear the words that he was about to hear. The words that could destroy him and make his world come crashing down faster than he could even draw his gun.
Dean wasn't blind, he knew that the words "talk privately" almost always meant bad news, especially if "privately" meant in some doctor's office.
"What I am saying is," Dr. Graham continued, "that even though we have clear evidence of brain activity in your brother's brain there's no knowing of when he'll wake up."
Tell me something I don't know.
Dr. Graham paused, and the silence seemed to last a lifetime and then some, before he turned to look at Dean intently. "If he wakes up."
If a heart could freeze Dean was pretty sure this was the moment, it was as if he couldn't feel anything just that cold frustration as he slammed his fist into the table in front of him. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? he demanded.
But the man in front of him didn't even seem to react to his actions. In fact he resembled a robot more than a doctor, with the way his features didn't even change.
"I won't lie to you Dean..."
Yeah. You better not.
"...but the longer Sam stays in a coma the less are the chances that he'll wake up."
"Can't you do something then? Don't you have some kind of method that can help him wake up?" Dean wanted to know. "I mean, what the hell am I supposed to do, what if...?"
Don't go there Dean.
"I'm truly sorry, but I'm afraid there's nothing I can..."
"Oh don't give me that shit. Of course there's something you can do. This is your job, for God's sake. Now you're telling me you're unable to do it?"
Oh he knew he shouldn't start lashing out on a doctor who had kept trying to do everything in his power to help his little brother. But the frustration of everything made him want to scream at everything and everybody and he just didn't have the strength to care anymore.
Because the only thing he cared about, well, he was in a coma and didn't seem to be able to hear him.
He had to give it to Sam's doctor though, he still hadn't so much as raised an eyebrow, but he stood there looking much more rigid than he'd done before.
"I understand that this is a difficult situation for you, but we have to keep things realistic..."
"Says the guy who wanted me to believe?" He couldn't stand this for one more second. "I'm sorry doc, I can't do this right now."
He didn't even stick around for an answer either.
Dean Winchester had to give it one last try, he had to talk to the only person he could stand and he had to convince him to come back.
TBC
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