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Chapter 25
"Sorry Dean, been busy."
Dean gaped at Mike's face, the man's dirty grin almost illuminating his features.
"Back off", the Winchester whispered, trying to keep his voice steady, "you got what you want..."
"Ah-ah", Mike replied, holding up a wagging finger, "not so fast. You have to arrive here first, kiddo."
Dean frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
It was then when he heard it. Far away, almost inaudible. Drowned out by the terrible screeching and laughing threatening his head to burst. Mike mirrored Dean's frown and looked around slowly, searching for the source. He let go of Dean's shoulder but the touch didn't vanish. Like a phantom pain it still lingered there.
"Tell them to stop", Dean demanded, slightly irritated by the feeling of someone touching but not touching him, "tell them to shut the fuck up."
The mild confusion written all over Mike's face faded and turned into a crooked smile. "Not my people. This comes from someplace entirely else." He leaned in, far too close for Dean's comfort. "You're not dead yet, you know."
The moment Mike shut his mouth Dean recognized it. And for a single second he chastised himself for not registering it sooner.
"Sam..." he breathed, joy and anguish colliding inside him.
It was like warm oil being poured over him, the feeling of being loved, of being home swaddling him, causing his heart to leap in relief. But the next moment the oil burned his skin, reminding him that it was this he had thrown away, the love, the home. Sam.
"He's calling for you", Mike hissed beside him, "that's what I meant when I said you have to arrive here at first. But don't worry, son. I'll make sure he doesn't reach you. I'm going to help you get settled."
Dean squeezed his eyes shut, feeling a new rush of hot tears gather in them. At the sound of his little brother's voice, cutting through the clamor around him, a life belt in this roaring sea of doom and perdition, he felt himself being torn apart.
A life belt floating on vicious waves, right in front of his eyes, which he couldn't reach.
"I'm sorry", Dean choked out, "you have to let me go, Sam. I made a terrible mistake. I guess I have to pay for it."
From the corner of his bleary eyes he saw Mike's grin widen.
"This isn't working", doctor Ollis spoke up, stepping forward next to Sam, "Sam, let's do it my way now, alright?"
Sam clenched his jaw, frustrated by the doctor's impatience. "A few minutes more, doctor, I need more time."
"Have you seen his vitals? His heart rate's almost going through the roof, this is dangerous."
Darting desperate eyes over to the wildly beeping heart monitor, Sam watched the jumping lines. He hadn't even registered the alarming noises the thing made.
He had his evidence. Dean did hear him.
"Okay Dean, listen to me closely", Sam started, ignoring Ollis who crossed his arms and started to tap his foot, "I don't know what brought you to your knees and I'm sorry for it because I should know. Me of all people should know. I'm sorry I wasn't there, I'm sorry I didn't notice. Blame those fucking acting skills of yours, but I was sure you didn't need me, I was so damn sure you were holding your own after everything that had happened to you."
There was a war raging inside Dean. His mind fought against his heart and what was left of his soul. For the first time since he had woken up he wished for the screaming demons around him to increase their volume, to please drown out Sam's voice that still cut through their noises like a sharp, blinding sword.
He wanted so bad to believe. To trust his brother. To wake up and pick up where they had left off before the hounds had taken him and ripped him apart. Damnit, before Sam had been killed and he had made that deal.
But that ship had sailed a long time ago. Dean wasn't the man he used to be and Sam wasn't, either. And now that Dean didn't trust himself anymore, after knowing what he was capable of even without an Alistair behind him, how could he go on knowing that Sam wasn't there to keep him sane? To keep him from doing something stupid? To let instincts take over?
"Look at me, Dean." Mike's voice was calm, understanding, an equally sharp and blinding sword as Sam's, penetrating the riot surrounding them as easily. He grabbed the sides of Dean's face, causing the Winchester to hiss when a jolt of pain tore through him. "Don't listen to him. Just look at me. It's over soon. And then we'll do as promised. Get you off the rack so you can show us how much hate there is."
Around him, the nurses and doctor Ollis started to bustle.
Sam looked up at Dean's heart monitor, noticing that the frantic beeping was now accompanied by an alarm, indicating that his brother's heart was indeed working overtime right now and something was seriously wrong. Somewhere behind him Ollis started yelling at him to step back and make room for them to work, was jumbling with words that sounded like 'security' and 'homicide', but Sam didn't listen.
This had to work. It just had to.
"Dean", he started again, his clear words turning into composed sobs, "I'm sorry for trying to get my way, for trying to figure out a way to get you on my own, all the while overlooking that you were needing me so bad."
The tears were streaming down Dean's face freely now, his breath hitching from agony and sadness. Suddenly there was a slight pressure building in his throat, an obstacle forming itself in there from out of nowhere, causing him to wheeze. Mike was still grabbing his head, held it in a vice-like grip. He was still talking but it seemed to fade, to melt together with the noises around them.
Sam's voice was still loud and clear. Like a beacon in a terribly cold night Dean didn't know if he should escape from or belonged to.
"Ventricular fibrillation", barked an urgent voice opposite him and Sam's attention was once again drawn to the freaked out heart monitor. For an insane second he wondered how many features that thing had for "shit has hit the fan" – the beeping, the alarm, the blinking, it was like a damn firework.
Panic spiked in Sam, the fear that he might be too late, that Dean was too far gone already, that this was one last defiant struggle of his dying mind and body before it would shut off all together numbing him.
He tightened his grip, leaned closer, his forehead touching Dean's temple.
"I want you to know that I'm here", Sam choked out through gritted teeth, "I never left, I'll never leave, no matter what. Wherever you are, this time I'm here. I'm going to pull you out. I won't fail."
For the second time this week he was grabbed from behind, this time by two sets of hands and with much more force then Phillip had used. He was roughly yanked backwards and found himself pinned against the wall by two huge guys in uniform, the impact leaving him momentarily stunned and breathless.
"No...", Sam grunted, starting to struggle against the security guards, all the while watching his sibling's face for any signs of waking, "Dean?"
"Keep him there", doctor Ollis ordered angrily, scowling at Sam.
Sam's voice faded. The clamor around Dean increased it's volume again, cloaking his beacon like an arising mist.
"Sammy?" Dean blinked frantically, the realization that this had been the last time he had heard his brother almost too much to take.
Mike was still there, his voice gaining strength again, his face hovering above his, cold, clammy hands caressing his burning cheeks. "Let go", he demanded in a friendly tone, "it's okay..."
Dean met Mike's eyes. Lost himself in the black and blue vortex he found in them. Went deaf at the uproar of the demons and other creatures dancing around in his periphery. Felt his lungs constrict at the unbearable pressure.
He took a deep breath, ignored the way the inside of his throat blistered from the hot, acid air. He knew he hadn't much strength left, but it was enough for the two syllables he was about to say.
"Nuh-uh", Dean growled.
And all of a sudden the air turned cold.
Sam fought tooth and nail against the men keeping him at bay, his rage fueled by the worry and concern for Dean.
"Let me...take your damn paws from me...!" he yelled, struggling to get a glimpse of his brother's face who was shielded by Ollis, the doctor barking orders at the nurses and fumbling with medical equipment. The whole room was a hurricane – frantic beeping, a cacophony of voices, ordering, shouting, people scurrying around.
So when all of a sudden the beeping slowed down and the alarm switched itself off, the orders and shouts subsided and the people calmed down Sam stopped short, not sure if it was over or if they had only reached the hurricane's eye.
When he recognized the breathing tube in one of the nurse's hands, saw the ventilator being pushed aside, he felt his heart skip a beat.
No. Nonono. Please, no.
"Dean?" he breathed, wanting to leap forward but still held immobile by the security. He felt his temper rise, was about to yank himself free, to scream at them, maybe rip their heads off while he was at it, when doctor Ollis turned around to face him and stepped aside.
The sight of his brother caused Sam's fury to fade instantly.
Where a powdery pallor had dominated Dean's appearance for almost a week a fine sheen of sweat was now glistening on his forehead and throat. His lips, deadly still and unmoving for too long, were quivering, smacking now that the tube was gone. His Adam's apple was bopping convulsively while Dean tried to swallow, his throat sore and dry for sure.
But the most relieving sight was his eyes being open, glassy, hooded greens staring straight upwards at the ceiling, blinking slowly as if Dean needed to readjust with his surroundings.
Who knew where he had been?
"Dean?" Sam tried again, a stupid smile plastered on his face. Dean blinked once more before he turned his head ever so slightly, meeting Sam's gaze.
"Thank you", doctor Ollis nodded at the security men and motioned at them to release Sam before he addressed one of the nurses, "could you get some ice chips, please?"
Yanking his arms from the hulk's grips Sam threw them an evil eye before he stepped forward tentatively, hovering above his brother, trying to make himself a bit smaller and less menacing.
"Hey", he breathed, pondering whether a brotherly touch was appropriate or not, deciding that a gentle contact couldn't hurt Dean's ego, "you took your sweet time, huh? Got me scared shitless for a while, dude."
Sam searched Dean's eyes, wanted to know how his brother was feeling, needed to see a desire to live. He wasn't prepared for the onslaught of raw emotions he was met with. The confusion in his brother's glassy orbs first turned to relief, then to joy before it seemed to freeze into bitterness and despair.
Dean moved his lips, a small croak escaping them.
"Shhh", Sam stopped him, shaking his head, knowing full well what his brother was trying to say, "it's okay, I'm here. Take it easy, okay?" The hell would Sam tolerate that Dean wasted what little energy he seemed to have on uttering his name. Even if Sam would give anything right now to hear Dean say something.
Someone cleared his throat and it was only then that Sam remembered where they were and that there were other people around. He whipped his head around and met doctor Ollis' gaze.
"Sorry to interrupt", the doctor spoke up softly, "but we need to examine Dean, see if everything's okay so far. You can wait outside, I'm sure it won't take long."
At the thought of leaving the room Sam bristled. He didn't want to leave Dean alone. He didn't want to leave him with a white coat and a bunch of nursing staff. Not after what had happened. Not after having promised to stay and never letting go.
Biting his bottom lip, Sam looked down at Dean. His brother kept watching him with hooded eyes, the 'ring around the rosies' of emotions quietened down into something similar to fatigue and weariness. At least it seemed as if he had accepted that speaking was not the best idea given his condition.
Sam was still reluctant, torn between walking out of the room and break his promise, or staying at Dean's side and risk another house ban. It was Dean who made the decision for him. The feeble nod and the slight, almost non-existent wave of his hand laying loosely by his side was enough for Sam to know that it was alright.
"Okay", Sam whispered to his sibling before he straightened and addressed doctor Ollis, "Okay, I'll get some coffee then. Let me know when you're finished." With one last glance at Dean he left the hospital room.
Sam turned the empty plastic cup in his hands, staring out of the window into the night and onto the illuminated parking lot several floors beneath. It occurred to him that the Impala was still at Lake Okeechobee, a fact that didn't sit well with him. Although Phillip had returned to the car and had parked her onto the facility's parking site right after he had dropped Sam at the ER the other night, Sam didn't want her anywhere near the institution. Just as he didn't want Dean there.
Problem was that this decision wasn't on him.
As happy and relieved as he was with Dean awake and hopefully well, it was a matter of time and his sibling's condition before the doctors at Lake Okeechobee would reclaim their patient only to have the time of their lives with him, poking and probing and drilling holes into Dean's head once more.
Crumpling up the cup in disgust Sam turned away from the window just in time to see the door of Dean's room open. The nursing staff retreated, followed by doctor Ollis who approached him immediately.
"Is everything okay?" Sam asked urgently, searching the doctor's serene face.
"As far as I'm concerned he's on his way", Ollis replied, "Dean's suffering from the aftermath of the coma and the blood loss. Talking, moving, he needs to kinda relearn all that but that shouldn't be a problem."
Sam nodded, almost hearing the massive weight rumbling off his chest. "I'd like to go back in, if that's okay."
"He's asleep, but of course you can stay with him. Just don't demand too much during the next days. He's very weak and needs some time to get his strength back."
Sam swallowed at Ollis' words. He had forgotten that this was far from over. That Dean being conscious didn't mean that he was alive an kicking again. That there might be some damage to repair.
The Winchester started to move towards the room when doctor Ollis opened his mouth.
"I guess I have to thank you", he stated, looking down onto the floor, both hands buried deep in the pockets of his coat.
Sam stopped short. "For what?" He looked intently at the older man.
"You know, this is a tough job. I don't want to complain, I love my job, really, I love to be a doctor." He looked up and sighed. "Sometimes we doctors forget to believe in miracles. We tend to forget that just being there for someone sometimes is the best medication."
Sam swallowed before he huffed out a "Tell me about it."
"So, I guess it was a good decision not to stop you back there. I would have missed a miracle."
Doctor Ollis held Sam's gaze for a second longer before he patted his shoulder and turned, walking down the hallway, his shoes squeaking on the linoleum floor.
To be continued...