Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

NOTE TO READERS: Thanks again for the reviews and PM's of support and encouragement. This chapter is around six pages long. I was pleased to hear that the last chapter was enjoyable, although I was worried about it meeting expectations, just as I am about this one, too. Thanks for sticking with the story, so far and I will try to keep up with the updates. I just never knew how much I'd have to take care of and do, so I'm a bit overwhelmed at the moment, but I will make every effort to keep updating in a timely fashion. I appreciate your patience and support.

Happy Reading, I hope!

SIDE NOTE: I thought I'd pass along to everyone just in case you're interested in reading some SN essays from the March released book from Ben Bella Books "In the Hunt" … I have added the link to my profile page. There was an essay contest sponsored from the publisher early in 2008. They have published the winners, but the chosen finalist didn't get in the book except for their names, however their essays including mine can be found at the site link on my FFnet profile page. They also have some excerpts from the winners in the book available to read. Keep in mind this contest was during early season 3 and season 4 hadn't even happened, so some material and/or theories that some writers may have discussed may or may not have panned out.

So Long, Good-bye

Chapter Seven: Grasping Straws

By Dawn Nyberg

"Is this the moment where I look you in the eye? Forgive my broken promise that you'll never see me cry …" Lyric excerpt by David Cook, Permanent

Two Days Later, Greene Memorial Hospital, ICU

"How much longer do you plan to keep my son sedated?" John stood defensively near his youngest son's room.

"Mr. Collins," Dr. Finley began. "Sam aspirated fluid into his lungs and in suctioning them we discovered he had vomited, as well when he choked on the water. He was in respiratory arrest when the paramedics arrived, although Dean did an excellent job of rescue breathing for him until help arrived and he is still requiring mechanical ventilation to help his lungs as they recover. I feel sedation is allowing the medicine and the vent to help his body, so we can get him home. It won't do him any good to wake up and fight the vent." John nodded.

"I read the brochures and booklets and they all said that aspiration pneumonia is the most common …" John couldn't finish the sentence but the physician did for him.

"It is true Mr. Collins that aspiration is the most common cause of death for PSP patients, but Sam's aspiration episode was addressed aggressively and I really do feel he'll be headed home in a few days." John looked back into his son's room and watched Dean sitting at Sam's bedside holding his hand and gently stroking a thumb across his little brother's knuckles of his left hand.

"I should go see my boys," John said absently as he looked back at the doctor.

"Of course, should you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask." John nodded and turned and walked back into his youngest son's room. John had had many questions and over the past two days of staying camped out at ICU or in the unit waiting room he had asked the doctor as many questions about PSP as he could. He stood silently watching his oldest son sit vigil at his little brother's side. John shook the memories of seeing Sam blue and unresponsive when he had run into the library with Bobby after hearing Dean yell his brother's name. Dr. Finley was hopeful and John took some comfort in that but he had read the literature and the physician had explained that Sam's case was not only rare for his age but extremely aggressive in nature. John knew from Bobby and Dean that the reason behind Sam's sickness had been a run-in with a negative entity but they hadn't turned up any means in which to help Sam. John would make some calls but not until his youngest was off the ventilator. John took in a calming breath and walked into the room.

He stepped behind Dean and placed a comforting hand on his oldest son's shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. "He's gonna pull through this Dean," John assured. Dean looked up at his father and offered a tentative smile. It wasn't much but John took some comfort in it and allowed a soft smile to cross his face, too. He gave one last squeeze and took up his seat next to Dean at his youngest child's bedside..

A short while later Dean shifted his eyes from his brother and looked at his dad, "So, you talk to Bobby?" The old family friend had been coming and going allowing John time with his boys.

"Earlier," John answered easily. "He called to see what the doctor said about Sam." John sighed. "I wish I had known Dean."

"Dad, I don't want to have this conversation again …"

"No, I didn't mean … it's just … I'm sorry I wasn't here for you, I know how hard this has to be on you, let alone Sammy."

"Dad, he's been pretty strong through this," Dean looked proudly at his brother. "I mean don't get me wrong he's had his moments … who the hell wouldn't …"

"Dr. Finley mentioned to me about his requests …" John inclined his head toward his youngest son's prone form. Dean's eyes drifted and he shook his head slightly.

"I'm still working on that," Dean answered quietly. "Look, it won't come to that; you know something we can do to fix this, right? Some contact?"

"I'll start making calls as soon as Sam is off the vent, okay?"

"So, you do have an idea?" Dean's voice was hopeful.

"I have some contacts that Bobby hasn't spoken to yet, so I'll try. I won't give up Dean."

"I know," Dean looked back at his brother. "So, are you leaving to go look?" his question was quiet and asked without him looking at his father. John watched his son and smiled to himself.

"I can make calls Dean … I think you boys need me here and I can't leave Sammy not now … I'll …"

"Dad, I ain't gonna lie, I want you here with us but if there is a solid lead that makes you have to leave then…"

"I know," John nodded to his son with a silent understanding. He reached up and stroked Sam's forearm and then allowed his hand to rest there.

Three Days Later, ICU

"I want to go home," the words were slightly slurred but understandable. Sam looked at Dr. Finley as he finished listening to Sam's lungs. Dean and John were waiting anxiously along with Bobby in the ICU waiting room while Sam was examined. He had come off the vent a day and half ago and they were eager for some good news regarding Sam's return to home.

"Well, your x-rays look pretty good that were taken this morning. I think I'll move you to the observation unit for today and release you tomorrow … how does that sound?"

Sam smiled and nodded. "Can my family come back in?" Sam's speech was clear that time but only because he had tried very hard to make himself clear and Dr. Finley knew how hard his patient had tried to not slur his speech.

"Sure, I'll give them the good news." The doctor went to leave and stopped. "Sam, what happened to put you in here … the drinking the water, I know how tempting it is but you can't do it again, okay? You must use the thickening agent, so you can help to reduce the risk of another choking incident, okay?" Sam dropped his eyes and nodded.

"Yeah, I know," he answered solemnly. "I just wanted …"

"I know, to drink some normal water and not sludge water," he offered lightly, "but you could have died had your brother not heard you struggling."

Sam looked at the doctor and only nodded once more and the physician offered a supportive smile and left to get his patient's family.

Two Weeks Later, Late March 2006

Dean had helped Sam into his wheelchair and taken him to the kitchen dining table, so that he could eat with all of them. They had been eating with Sam in his room but they wanted to give him as much normalcy as possible. Sam had begun having problems with feeding himself in the last few days and would dribble. He had been embarrassed but Dean wouldn't let him withdraw from them. Dean smiled and grabbed a large plastic bib and tied it around Sam in order to protect his t-shirt he was wearing … Sam hated it but he hated having a mess on his clothing more. Sam had also begun having difficulties in dressing himself and had in the last day or two required help in dressing.

The conversation was lively at the table but Sam needed to talk to them. "Here Sammy try another spoonful of sweet potato," Dean had prepared the puree just to Sam's liking. Sam turned his face away and raised a hand in frustration.

"I can … do it," Sam slurred out with difficulty. John watched his children with agony. In the two weeks since Sam had been released from the hospital he had been calling lead after lead and still no one had any solution to helping his child. Dean pulled back the spoon and cast a worried glance at his father. John took the cue.

"Sammy," John started being careful to keep his voice even, "you gotta eat kiddo, but if you want to do it then…" John nodded to Dean and his oldest son put down the spoon on the plate, "go ahead," he urged gently. Sam looked at the spoon and frowned and finally shook his head.

"Need … to talk …" he slurred out.

"You okay?" Dean asked instantly with concern.

"It's … time to …" Sam frowned at his heavily slurred words. He focused to get the next sentence out as clearly as possible. "My appointment with … Dr. Finley tomorrow … the papers … I want the papers."

"No, Sam it's not time for that," Dean stood up and shoved his seat back. "Dad's following up contacts every day we're going to find a way to save you, make you better. So, you're having some more trouble, you don't need some hospice or whatever. You need to be here…"

"No," Sam slurred. "You dress me, feed me now 'cause I can't do it right … soon I won't be able to wash myself and…"

"Stop dammit" Dean shouted loudly and even John and Bobby flinched at the guttural yell.

"Dean, son…" John started.

"What?" Dean turned blazing eyes toward his father. "It's not time, it's not … we still got leads, right?"

"Yes, I still have a few to get a hold of," John assured. "Sammy, son, I have no idea hoe hard this is on you but I know I wouldn't be handling things well if I were in your shoes, so I think I can understand on the smallest level, but your brother is right a hospice isn't for you now, it won't ever be," John affirmed. "Please, stay here, look if having us are for you doing certain things is too difficult for you to allow let me talk to your doctor and see if there is some kind of home visitations that can happen or something a nurse or aide or something … how about that? Would you consider it?"

"Still want the papers made out … I don't want to be on machines, no more vents," Sam slurred out but they all had heard.

"Sammy," Dean jumped in now. "You needed the vent a couple weeks ago, you can't say no when it can help."

"Not saying no to help," Sam assured. "But, I don't want it to be the way I have to live." Sam turned imploring eyes toward Bobby hoping the older hunter understood what he was trying to say.

"I think I know what he's trying to say," Bobby interjected as he smiled knowingly at Sam. "He's just saying if it came down to him being kept alive by a vent or other machines because he wasn't going to be able to sustain himself then he wants to be …" Bobby quieted for a moment and swallowed the thick lump in his throat before he spoke the final words. He took a breath and started again, "if he can't sustain himself he wants to be let go." Sam's eyes filled with unshed tears and smiled at Bobby, a silent thank you in his face. Dean turned away and walked to a window that overlooked the yard. He felt the hot sting in his eyes and knew he couldn't find his voice yet, his emotions still too close to the surface.

"I'll stay … maybe get an aide later we'll see, okay?" Sam offered up an olive branch. "But I get the papers," he asserted firmly albeit slurred.

Dean cleared his throat and turned to look at Sam and then his father. He still didn't speak but he offered a quick, tense nod an agreement had been met.

The Next Day, Outpatient Center

Dr. Finley sat at a table with Sam and his family. There were two other medical professionals there to act as witnesses. Sam attempted to scribble his name on the paper. He had made his wishes known … the form was mostly checking off what you want and don't want. Sam had noticed how stiff Dean had sat during the paperwork. It was hard to ignore the impact of a paper that bore the bold printing: South Dakota Statutory Living Will Declaration. Sam had needed to fill out a Healthcare Power of Attorney form, as well, and had started to ask Bobby to take on the responsibility should he not be able to communicate at all for himself, but Dean had spoken up and indicated he could do it and would abide by what his brother would want should he not be able to make decisions. Sam had wanted to spare his brother or father that burden but he couldn't deny Dean either.

The day hadn't been a good one and the doctor had announced that Sam had had further progression and that it seemed imminent that there would be more issues to combat sooner rather than later. He had provided some brochures on home care and left the offer open to arrange for the care when they all felt it was needed.

One Month Later, Late April 2006

John stayed near his boys and followed up every contact and a couple potential leads that hadn't panned out, but John was quickly coming to the end of his rope on finding a way to save his son, his youngest child. In the past handful of weeks Sam had become more quiet and withdrawn. He would speak but his speech was so difficult to understand most of the time that he was left unable to communicate the way he wanted and desired too. John walked into the kitchen and saw Dean pouring himself a cup of coffee. "Hey," he offered gently. "Sammy still sleeping?"

"Yeah." John wanted so much to help his first born but words were there to help soothe this situation, this nightmare, there were none, so he just made himself available as much as he could. He knew he had been hard on both his boys in their youth but now was not the time for him to be their drill sergeant but they needed their dad and this he could give them.

Ten Minutes Later

Sam awoke to a discomfort and moved slightly and then it dawned on him with a horrible realization. He pulled down the sheet and stared, he felt the hot tears well quickly and cascade down his cheeks. Dean and John walked into the library at that moment and saw Sam's anguish and tears. "Sammy?" Dean hurried forward with John close behind, "What's wrong? Are you ..." the words died on his lips when he realized with agonizing understanding that Sam had wet his bed.

To Be Continued