Disclaimer- i own nothing.
Chapter 15
"How's Sam?", asked Dean forgoing to traditional hey. John did not say anthing. His eyes wandered to the curtain. The doctors had drawn it around Sams bed, despite Deans
protestations, about ten minutes ago. John had disappeared behind the curtain a few minutes ago on the invitation of the nurse. On being asked to enter, he had looked pale. Now
when he was leaving Sams side, Dean realised that he looked quite sick. The look of devestation on Johns face made Dean want to gag. John seemed to be having difficulty
focusing. His hand was at his mouth. His eyes blinking rapidly.
"They are doing tests." JOhn whispered disbelievingly. Even though he was answering Deans question he was not looking at him. His eyes were fixed on the curtain.
"What do you mean?" Deans eyes were fixed on John. He tried to read Johns expression, hoping to gain answers in his face. It's bad,he realised with a sinking heart.
"Something about internal damage...the brain...lack of oxygen."
The words hit Dean with a thump. He could see the truth in them. It was like bio one o one was coming back to bite him back on the ass.
"What? How serious do they think he is?" Dean demanded. John winced with the questioning. He was exhausted mentally. He did not think he could cope with much more. He
reminded himself to be patient. Dean was ill. He watched as his oldest inhaled deeply, relying on the mask. John ignored the nurse beside Deans bedside. She was studying the
machine that Dean was hooked into. She took a few notes on her clipboard and left, sparring Dean a sympathetic glance.
"Sam had some serious head injuries, among other things when he first came here. Now they are worried the lack of oxygen has done more damage to my boy. They think, that
even if he wakes up that he wont be the same."
"If he recovers, he may not necessarily be Sam." Deans voice was small. John nodded
"How would you feel about that?" asked John, sitting on the edge of Deans bed. It dipped slightly with his weight.
"Fine." He answered without hesitation. "He would still be my brother. It is still my job to protect him no matter what."
John smiled, warmed by Deans sincerity. "Good Boy."
"Why did this happen?" asked Dean, honestly confused. "Why did Sams heart just stop? He does not smoke. The guy hardly drinks. He is physically fit. Why?" Dean glanced over
at the curtain. He missed the look of sadness pass over Johns face. His smile disappeared.
"The most likely cause, or so they think, is an internal bleed or a clot, in which the blood which carries his oxygen is prevented from reaching his organs."
Dean nodded. It was a problem. Finally, he thought, things were begininng to make sense. All they had to do was to fix the mistake and Sam would be okay.
"So, when are they fixing this thing?"
John plucked the thin blanked sadly. "That is the thing, they are not."
Dean blanched. "What?! What kind of hospital is this-" Dean shouted.
"Dean!" John reprimanded.
"But!...But!... If that is not fixed, his heart will stop beating again. And if his as weak as you say he is, then he will probably die." Dean was confused and emotionally exhausted.
Ever since he had woken in this hospital bed, his emotions had taken a ride. He did not know what to think or feel anymore. The whole situation was beginning to feel like a bad
dream where he was annoyingly useless.
"He is too weak Dean!" John cried, exasperated, "If he goes into surgery now there is an excellent chance he could die on the table."