Act II. Scrapped Table

Which was born in a night to perish in a night,

When the soul slept in beams of light.

God appears, and God is light

To those poor souls who dwell in night,

But does a human form display

To those who dwell in realms of day.

Dean sat at the wheel of the Impala, drumming his fingers and bobbing his head to a song that only he could hear. His tongue ran across the top of his dry upper-lip, successfully hiding a triumphant smile. Sam sat next to him, squinting at the empty road ahead of them, taking pleasure in the vibrations that rattled up the back of his chair into his back. The hot summer air blew into the car, circulating around them. Sam brushed his hair away from his face just in time to catch the pearly whites that were his brother's teeth. He snorted. "You're in a good mood," Sam noted.

Dean pushed his sunglasses back up on his face, his teeth pressed against his tongue. "Why shouldn't I be?" Dean inquired, smiling. Sam shrugged scratching the back of his hand. "No reason," Was his response. Dean gave him a weird look over the top of his sunglasses, he caressed the dashboard of the Impala with such affection, and Sam shuddered. That was something you'd do with your girlfriend, not your car. Dean's perchance for his 16th Birthday present was perplexing, even disturbing at times, but Sam understood it to an extent. After all, he owned a BMW. Granted it wasn't a classic like the Impala, but he valued it a great deal. "You know, if you two want to get a room, just let me know, Dean," Sam joked, starring out the window.

"Dean shoved his brother roughly, ignoring the death glare he received in turn. He patted the dashboard. "Oh, don't listen to him, baby. He doesn't understand-"

"Dean!" Sam's shout startled Dean, his rebuke died in his throat. He cast his gaze forward, and found himself staring a woman standing in the middle of the road, dressed in a white flowing gown. His foot, along with Sam's hit the brake pedal until it touched the floor of the car. The tires screeched in protest across the asphalt, the car showed no signs of slowing down. The Impala barreled through the woman as if she were never there, Dean and Sam shrank away from her body as it phased through them.

The car finally came to a halt throwing the brothers forward, Dean felt his heart pounding in chest, he met Sam's wide-eyed gaze. They were silent for a total of seven minutes then Sam spoke. "You saw that right?" His voice trembled, his fingers gripping the dashboard, paling rapidly. Dean nodded stiffly, swallowing against the obstruction in his throat. They looked out the back window of the car for any sign of a body, only there wasn't one. With a shaky hand, Dean started to turn the key in the ignition, the engine sputtered and roared to life, totally unaffected by the incident. Pressing his foot on the gas, Dean relaxed when the Impala tore down the road - its tire marks the only clue of its existence upon the road. "-Us," Dean muttered absentmindedly. Sam snapped his head toward his brother, his brow wrinkling.

"What?" He blurted.

"I said 'Us'. I was finishing -," Dean groaned, rubbing his throbbing chest. "My sentence from earlier, about the car."

Sam made a 'ah' noise, he didn't get the point in Dean's reason for that. They rode in silence, making the occasional grunt when shifting in their seats. As they neared their destination, which was just across the bridge, the engine began to sputter and car decreased in speed. Sam shot his brother a look, Dean paid him no mind and attempted to get the car to start up again. "No, c'mon Baby. Don't do this, not now," Dean pleaded, wincing as he listened to the engine turn over. The car rolled a stop in the middle of the bridge, abandoning them in their time of need.

"That's just great," Sam mumbled, slumped in his chair. Dean turned the car off and climbed out of the car. Sam watched as his brother hoisted the hood up and ventured to inspect the engine. A few minutes later, a large cloud of steam came rolling out from behind the bonnet of the car, he groaned in dismay. Dean closed the hood of the car with a slight bang; he walked around the front back to the open car door. Sitting down on the edge of the seat, Dean fished his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and searched his phone book. "Are you calling a tow truck service?" Sam inquired.

Dean shook his head. His hand unconsciously rubbed his chest again. "Cassie," He replied.

"Cassie, your girlfriend, Cassie Robinson?" Sam cried, "Unless she can get a spot on the six o'clock news, what good will that do us?"

"Not a damn thing, Sammy, but I wanted to call her. Let her know that we'll be running late," Dean supplied, listening to the static crackling over his phone. Sam mumbled something unintelligible slouching further into his seat. This was terrible; 9:00PM already, and they still hadn't made it into town.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Cassie," Dean began hesitantly.

"Dean?" Cassie asked.

"Yeah, babe, it's me, Listen-"

"I've been sitting here… the park… hour now. You …gotten -" Dean's brow wrinkled as he attempted to make out Cassie's voice through the increasing static.

"No, no, I swear I haven't forgotten… the car broke down, were on the bridge- "

"What? I didn't get that. De-"

"Cassie-!" Dean moved away from his phone when an ear-splitting scream emitted from the phone's speakers. Sam sat upright in an instant, moving closer to his brother who was trying to raise his girlfriend on the phone. The screaming continued until the phone went dead. 'Call ended' scrolled across the screen, and then the phone shut off. Dean pressed the call button a couple times, a bewildered expression etched on his face. "My phone's dead. Sam, try yours, get some help," Dean sighed, closing his car door. Sam nodded numbly; he pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket and dialed Jessica's number as fast as he could. Pressing the phone to his ear, he listened anxiously for her voice with each ring that passed.

"Hello?" Sam could've sang praises to the angels at the sound of her voice.

"Jess, hey, it's me," He breathed.

There was a pause that lasted about a second. "Sam? Hey, where are you guys?"

"We're in the middle of the bridge, just a couple miles outside of town," Sam replied.

She didn't save me…

Sam jumped at the breath that tickled his hear. He cast a glance up at the rearview mirror; there was no one in the backseat. Stop freaking yourself out, man. He thought warily, turning back to the cell phone. "Jessica, did you get any of that?" He asked. There was no response; moving the phone away from his ear, he checked the screen. It was blank. "What? What is it?" Dean asked. Sam doubled checked his phone then looked to his brother. "My phone's dead," He deadpanned.

"That's not funny, Sam," Dean snapped. Sam hunched his shoulders as he extended his hand toward his brother. "I'm not joking, Dean, my cell phone is really dead," Sam replied. Dean snatched the phone from his brother's grasp, he had some nerve. Regarding the cell phone for a minute, Dean pressed a finger against the call button. The wasn't even so much as a blip from the phone, no matter how many times he pressed the button, the cell refused to activate.

"Shit," Dean grumbled, reaching the phone back to Sam.

"I told you," Sam said, pocketing the cell. Dean never had a chance to reply to his brother, the strange irritation that had been growing his chest suddenly blossomed in the worst pain he'd ever felt. Sam found himself pressed up against the door of the passenger side, beyond alarmed by the scream that came from his brother.

He was sure he looked like a spooked cat right now. His heart beat wildly in his chest, he looked around for Dean unsure of what occurred. Another scream emitted from Dean, Sam found himself crawling over to the driver side door, out the car and across the bridge. His body rolled over a pair of legs, landing in a crouched position he spotted his brother on the ground. Dean's body convulsed violently, arms clawing at some unseen fiend. "Dean! Dean, what's wrong?" He shouted.

Naturally, Dean didn't answer, his screaming continued to grow in intensity, his hands fallen to his chest and were now clawing at his shirt. Sam struggled to respond accordingly, his hands grabbed a hold of Dean's wrists, then his shoulders when he couldn't keep wrestle his hands away from his chest. Dean's back arched upward as he rolled to the side, Sam attempted to follow his movement when the elder Winchester's body was forced violently back on his back by strength not his own.

Sam's eyes were drawn toward to his brother's chest, blood spread through Dean's shirt, Sam swallowed against the bile rising in his throat while Dean struggled to lift his head from the ground. Dean barely caught a glimpse of his bleeding chest when another torrent of pain assaulted him; his scream lacked the strength it once had, sounding more strangled than anything.

"Dean!" Tears sprang to Sam's eyes, what was going on? What was happening to his brother? Sam's breathing became shallow as his brother's body twitched and his eyes roll up into his head. "Dean!" Sam cried. The young man made a move to grab his brother by the shoulders, when a decrepit image flickered over Dean's figure. Sam leapt backward with a shout, tripping over his feet he fell to the ground again. He felt his heart race and body tremble as the facade of the young woman the Impala had driven right through flickered in and out of sight, her fingers burrowing deeper into the skin of his brother's chest.

Sam felt himself shift wildly under the weight of the afghan before he was even fully awake. Sleep still weighed heavy in his eyes as they surveyed the area surrounding him, knowing full well that he was in the living room of his and Jessica's apartment. Pulling himself into an upright position he glanced at the digital clock of the DVD player; 11:33AM. Grabbing the remote off the coffee table, he pressed the info button. It was Thursday. His arm fell back to his side, the remote slipped from his grasp onto the floor, unnoticed by the young Winchester. He thought of calling out to Jessica, but Jessica was probably in class by now. This reminded him that he had to get to class in half an hour.

Sam sat in the quiet of the living room for a moment, his mind was still abuzz from the vivid reemergence of a memory he wish never experience again. It had taken him months to forget what happened on the bridge; he used the method of denial he picked up from his father. Sam was pretty sure he hallucinated the entire thing, but the lacerations that remained on his brother's chest and bloody, tattered shirt said otherwise.

He never spoke about it to his brother and Dean never brought it up afterward. A shrill ring from the phone chased away the last remnants of sleep from his being. Why would I dream about that? He thought rising from the couch. The afghan slid from his shoulders onto the cushions of the couch, Sam shuffled past the coffee table over to glass shelf where the phone resided. He regarded the photographs of himself with Jessica briefly before picking the phone up off the transparent shelf.

The phone answered for him when he lifted it from the base, he pressed the receiver to his ear and mustered in his best awake voice, "Hello?" When a long stretch of silence was his response, Sam's eyes lifted to study the ceiling. "Hello?" He repeated, not bothering to hide the irritating in this voice. He really hoped this wasn't an automated message looking to send on a trip to Disney World. Still, after another stretch of silence, he got no response. "Alright, this isn't funny anymore. I'm hanging up," Sam said.

"…Sam," The weight of Dean's voice had Sam frowning immediately. His brow furrowed and he pressed the phone closer to his ear. "What do you want, Dean? I've got class in -" He turned to regard the clock on the wall next to the window. "-I've got class in fifteen minutes." His brother had some nerve to pull a prank on him, a bad one, especially. Sam could hear the radio playing in the background over the phone, he recognized Eric Clapton's "Blue eyes Blue" and immediately knew that Dean was over their mother's house. His foot tapped impatiently, waiting for Dean to answer his question.

The sound of his brother drawing in breath rattled in his ear and Sam cast another glance over at the wall clock. "Sam, I …I need you to get over here as fast as you can," Sam raised an eyebrow at the unsteady quality Dean's voice had taken suddenly. What could be bothering him? More importantly, why was he even calling? "What are you-"

"Please don't ask questions, just get over here now."

"Dean-"

"I'm not kidding around here, Sammy! Get over here now," Dean's voice had all but cracked at that point, and before Sam could get a word in edgewise, the line went dead. Sam pulled the receiver away from his ear, shooting the phone an insulted look. Placing the phone back on the glass shelf, he proceeded toward the doorway, where his jacket and shoes awaited him.

He really should've been getting ready for class; history taught Sam that Dean had nothing incredibly pressing to offer when he called, outside of a well laid prank that he always fell for time and time again. It was how he lost his Prom date to Dean, after all. It would be a cold day in hell before he admitted Dean's charm had anything to do with it. Grabbing his car keys, Sam exited his apartment.

Cassie was pulled out of her slumber by an uneasy moan in her ear. Squinting against the morning sun reflecting off the floor mirror, Cassie turned her head toward the source of the moaning and found herself face-to-shoulder with her boyfriend, Dean. Her brow knitted together at the sound of mumbles, his face was pressed against her shoulder, his mouth moved out of sync with the sounds he was making. "Dean?" She whispered, the hoarseness of her voice waking her a little more. Dean's eyes opened immediately, the bewildered expression of sleep steadily began to leave his face as Cassie brown eyes came into focus and felt the tip of her nose against the side of his.

A dreamy smile befell him at the sight of Cassie's bare shoulders; pulling his arm out from underneath the covers he raised a hand to caress her face. Cassie watched his hand approach her face with restrained excitement, when the tips of his calloused fingers brushed against her skin she pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. Dean traced the outline of her jaw with careful precision, stopping at the edge of her chin. Cassie leaned forward and kissed him on the lips, Dean scooted closer to her to receive the full attention of her lips. Cassie pulled away from him and grinned. "Good morning," She sighed.

"Morning," Dean drawled, propping himself up on his elbows. "When did you get in?"

Cassie took a moment to answer his question; she rolled her eyes in a flippant manner, chewing her lip. "I think about 6:15," She replied. Dean grunted, eyebrows rising at the answer she'd given him. "That's late," He sighed, pulling himself into a sitting position. Cassie shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, the late nights and little sleep was a normal thing for her; at first she had been exhausted, struggling to adjust to the night shifts and sleep-in sessions at home that would last as far as the afternoon. It certainly put a strain on the more sexual aspects of her and Dean's relationship; she was too tired to do anything and he was far too wired with unfulfilled energy to keep himself from touching her when they shared the bed. Now, she was used to it, but It certainly was a process that took getting used to. "Did your mom like her present?" She asked.

"Yeah, she was really happy when I gave it to her," Dean said. Cassie nodded, watching him swing his legs over the edge of the bed. He there for a moment, hands gripping the edges of the bed, the muscles of his back visible against his skin. Dean stared at the neon numbers of the alarm clock with dismay. He was late for work, his boss was gonna kill him when he showed up. "What were you dreaming about?" Cassie's voice drifted out of the background like a breeze.

"Huh?" Dean replied, genuinely puzzled. Cassie shot his back an indignant look as she pulled herself up into a sitting position, holding the covers close to her chest she scooted over to Dean until she her shoulder was resting against his shoulder blade. Lowering her head, she rested her chin on his shoulder. Dean turned in response to her skin against his. "What's this about dreams, again?" Dean inquired.

"I asked what you were dreaming about," Cassie said. "You were moaning in your sleep."

"Melissa George?" He offered.

"Really? You couldn't think of someone a little more fetching? Like, 90's Hallie Berry?" Cassie gave him a good natured shove, amused and a little annoyed that he wasn't taking her question seriously. Throwing her curly hair back over her shoulder, she snaked an arm over his shoulder, her hand sliding down his chest. Dean felt his heart race at her touch. Lowering his head, he thought about what he might've been dreaming of before he woke up. It lingered on the back of his mind, just out of reach.

The blurred image of he and his brother inside the Impala sprang to mind, but did little to help him as that could've been from any number of memories. Finally he shrugged, too stumped to think any more. "I dunno," He said. "Maybe."

Cassie scoffed, giving him another shove. "Your such a liar, Dean Winchester," She chuckled, climbing out of the bed. Dean fell backward onto the bed, watching as she slipped into her violet sweatpants and reached for her white tank top.

An incredulous expression crossed his face. "I'm not lying, Cassie, I can't remember. Which means, it couldn't have been Melissa George, because I-" Dean never got to finish his sentence, Cassie grabbed a pillow and whacked him with it. Dean rolled to the side missing the second blow, he crawled off the bed. "Enough with Melissa George," Cassie laughed. She tossed the pillow at Dean who caught it with insulting ease.

"I would've remembered that!" He finished, laughing. Shaking her head, Cassie proceeded out of the bedroom.

When Sam arrived at their house, nor Dean or their mother was anywhere to be found. He searched every level of the house for their whereabouts, but could find no signs of them. Sam stood in the kitchen with a frown on his face; he could not believe he fell for Dean's shit again. As he started to leave the kitchen, he caught sight of a blue sticky pad note on the fridge. Curious enough to postpone going back to the campus, Sam snatched the sticky note off the fridge and examined it.

"Gone to the hospital with mom.

Get your ass here, ASAP!
- Dean"

Sam's brow furrowed, why were they at the hospital? Suddenly the tone in Dean's voice when he called him earlier, played back in his mind. Could something had happened to mom? Harm to one of his own, was usually the only thing that put Dean on edge, it was the same with their father. Shoving the note into his pants pocket, Sam left the house and headed for his car. He went slightly over the speed limit as he entered the downtown area, no one pulled him over.

When he reached the hospital, Sam parked just outside the crowded parking grounds of the building, taken aback by the sudden activity so early in the morning. Upon entering the hospital, he pretended not to notice the rows of people crowding the first waiting room. Silently, he prayed Dean and mom were not a part of whatever happened to them.

Sam surveyed the area for this brother, his ears tingled from all chaos sounds going on around him, he found himself stepping out of the way for every person or gurney that came his way, his head was spinning by the time he reached the counter. Sam braced himself against the smooth surface of the counter, catching his breath. The woman standing at the desk glanced away from the computer screen and forced a smile. "How may I help you sir?"

"I'm- I'm looking for a Dean or Mary Winchester," He said. "He asked me to meet him here."

"Are you family or friend?"

"Family, I'm his brother, Mary is our mother," He explained briefly. The nurse's smile dropped her face which turned grim for the tiniest second, Sam watched her focus on the computer screen again, her fingers danced across the keyboard with frightening ease. There was a pause, Sam felt himself becoming antsy from the woman's dramatics, why was it so hard for hospital personnel to just explain the situation?

A half smile graced the nurse's features.

"Ah-ha, here they are. Name was filed backwards; Winchester, Mary. Their up in the ICU, 10th floor, room 210," She said.

Damnit, that was all Sam needed to hear, pushing away from the counter he headed down the hall for the elevator. In his rush to get to the elevator, it occurred to him that he would probably end up waiting for the freakin' thing to come from whatever level it was on, which only seemed to make him angrier. What the hell were they doing in the ICU? He thought, pressing the button three times. He shoved his hands into his pockets, trying his best to keep himself from lashing out at something while he watched the light jump numbers.

"Sam? Sam is that you?"

Sam turned; standing across from him was Cassie.

"Alright, I've gotta be at work in forty minutes, or Mitch will fire me."

"Okay, I'll see tonight - or tomorrow morning, whichever."

"I'll wait up just in case it's the first and not the latter."

"Hmm… hoping to get some extracurricular activities in before bedtime, are we?"

"You know it, sweet cheeks."

Somewhere between getting to work and needing to see his mother Dean was visited by the mysterious woman again. He'd been searching his glove compartment for his cassette copy of Ride the lightning, when felt the temperature take a sudden plunge inside the car and hand, which may as well have been made of ice, grab the left side of his chest.

It was as if his entire nervous system came to a halt, he barely had time to slam on the breaks before the pain crippled him completely. Outside of the Impala, cars swerved out of the way, hitting their own breaks, slamming into each other in the process.

Curling up on himself was difficult due to the seat belt, he tried to close his arms around his chest, but the hand wouldn't allow it. Dean twisted wildly in his seat, unable to find a safe haven from the pain. God, make it stop, please make it stop! No one, or no God seemed to hear his pleas, however. The pain traveled from his chest all through his body, his head seemed to be the most receptive to the agony. He felt like it would explode if the pain got any worse. Shifting his gaze to the right, he saw the body the hand was attached to.

Only, instead of a beautiful woman bathed in sunlight, she was haggard reflection of a reanimated corpse. Her hair was dried out, falling from her head, her eyes were hollow and void of any color or life, and he saw nothing except the whites of her eyes. Her skin, gray and wrinkled, was covered in bruises and dried blood. Her nightgown was soaken wet, spotted with fresh blood. Dean felt tears roll down his face as his vision blurred.

However, he did not fall unconscious; instead he was thrown into a flurry of images. He saw flashes of the house exterior, a woman sitting on the swing as she observed his mother inside. The perspective changed, he was now inside the house. Mary stopped in the center of the living room, hand on her chest. From outside the house, he watched her fall out of sight, onto the floor. There was a shrill cry of pain that sent a shiver down his spine, then silence.

The woman in white appeared in front of him, her beautiful appearance decaying by the second.

She didn't save me.

You won't save her either.

"Do you know what happened?" Sam's voice shattered the uncomfortable silence that settled between the two. Cassie glanced up from the coffee cup she'd been carrying around with her all morning, she shrugged.

"I only just found out they were here," She replied. "I was coming back from lunch with some friends when I saw the Chevrolet parked out in front of the station," Sam laughed quietly at the label Cassie had decided to use. Almost no one he knew called the Impala a 'Chevrolet', it seemed like a completely odd word when concerned with that blasted vehicle.

"He explained everything on the way. I meant to call you up earlier, but I got called back from work and Dean told me he'd take care of things with you," She tucked her hair behind her ear. "I hope they're okay."

Sam hoped so too.

After a couple pit stops, the elevator finally came to a stop at the tenth floor. Sam was out of the door before it opened completely, Cassie followed suit. He ignored the looks from the medical personnel as he traveled down the hall, checking the numbers on all the doors. He was half way down the hall when he finally reached room 510.

"Dean!" He pushed the door open, manners momentarily forgotten.

The anger in him drained away at the sight of his mother lying in the hospital bed, hooked up to a myriad of life-support machines. Dean sat next to her, slouched in the chair, pale as the woman he watched over.

"Dean?" Sam repeated. This time his brother turned to regard him, his eyes was puffy and red from crying (not that he'd admit to something like that).

"It happened again, Sam," He said.

What happened again? Sam wanted to ask. He never got another word in, unfortunately; Cassie raced into the room, several other people following behind her. They stopped at the door, seeing Cassie seemed to motivate Dean more than seeing Sam did; he rose from the chair and allowed her to envelope him in a hug. Pulling away from him, her hands cupped his face. "Dean, are you okay?" She asked.

"I'm okay, Cas," He replied quietly.

"Dean, what happened to Mom?" Sam said, making his presence known again. Dean averted his gaze from his girlfriend to his brother, he seemed almost hesitant to even speak with Cassie in the room. Sam couldn't blame him, especially if his brother was talking about what he thought he was talking about. The choice of what to do next was an easy one.

"Uh, Cassie, could you give us a minute?" He said.

Cassie paused, she shifted her gaze to Dean, hoping he would object to his brother's request. He didn't. Resigned, Cassie nodded. "S-sure," She said. Cassie gave Dean's arm one last squeeze before exiting the room, there was a sudden chatter from the doctors of voices outside of the door, Sam could hear them asking Cassie questions as she headed down the hall. Sam walked over to the door and closed it. "So what happened?"

When Dean came to, there was a swarm of angry and concerned drivers surrounding the Impala. He didn't even remember blacking out, he remembered nothing except the frigid cold of the woman in white's grasp. Dean was fairly certain was losing his mind, shit like what happened to him wasn't normal on any level. Hell, it wasn't sane.

Fighting against the pain in his chest, Dean started up the Impala and pulled out of traffic, leaving the angry/concerned mob behind him. His head spun causing his vision to double, but he managed to maintain consciousness long enough to escape the lunch-hour traffic. When he arrived at his mother's house, the first thing he noticed was the swing; it swung back and forth as if someone was on it.

Climbing out of the car, Dean stumbled across the walkway up to the front door. Bending over, he grabbed the spare key from under the welcome mat and shoved it into the keyhole. With a twist of the key, the door opened without a problem. "Mom!" Dean stumbled the rest of the way into the house, hand pressed against his side, where a cramp was beginning to start.

"Mom?" He called again, peering into the living room. She was right where he saw her, lying face down on the floor next to the silverware cabinet. "Mom!" He dashed across the short distance between him, dropping to his knees the second he reached her. Rolling her over on her side, Dean recoiled at the sight of blood running from her nose, down her pale lips. Dean tried to keep himself from thinking the worst. He placed two fingers at the base of her neck. There was a pulse, it was weak, but it was a pulse. Reaching into his left pants pocket, Dean retrieved his cell phone and dialed 911.

Sam listened on with a blank expression, his jaw shifted uncomfortably as he grinded his teeth. Dean was back in the set next to their mother's bedside, his shoulders were slouched, his elbows rested on his knees while his hands ran through his hair.

"I swear to you Sammy, it was just like that night on the bridge," Dean said. "The same night Mom had her heart attack and it happened again. Only this time, I saw her. I saw that woman-"

"Dean, you can be serious. I mean-" Sam paused, searching for the right combination of words to use to rebuke his brother. "-Look, I'm not saying whatever happened that night, didn't happen-"

"Then what are you saying, Sammy?" Dean snapped.

"I'm saying, who's to say any of it was actually real? Ghosts, spontaneous injuries- none of its logical!"

"Oh, so, what, we both had a crazy moment together?" He said, rising from the chair. "Sam, we both saw the same damn thing happening to me - you saw that girl, and you're trying to chalk it to some sudden mental breakdown? I dunno about you little brother, but sounds like you're the one with some serious denial issues."

Sam cast an uneasy glance at the door behind them, he really hoped no one was eavesdropping. Now was not to the time to get into a fight. They'd be thrown out the hospital before they even got to throwing punches and they were no good to their mother outside of the hospital.

"Look, I'm not denying anything, Dean. Okay? I'm just trying to be reasonable about this whole situation," Sam rebuked.

"Reasonable? Sam, there is nothing reasonable about the situation. I'd be the first the guy to tell you, that everything comin' out of my mouth is bullshit. But, it's not. I swear to you, it's not. Everytime, I see that girl, something always happens to mom. She's been showing up all week now, she's like freakin' Endora from Bewitched," Dean sighed. "She attacked me and it was like I was being shown the past or the present-"

"Wait, what? What the hell are you-"

"She did that thing with her hands, it was like I was being electrocuted or something, Sammy," Dean attempted to explain. "Then it was like I - I was having an out-of-body experience. I saw her standing outside, watching mom on the old swing, and then I saw Mom collapse. I blacked out."

Again, Sam found himself unsure how to respond to that. "I- uh, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. I didn't think I'd be when I found mom on the floor, right where I saw her fall," Dean said. "I was that close to losing it when I called you, man."

Sam nodded. "Do you know what happened to her?"

"They said it was a stroke. They don't know what caused it, just they don't know what caused the heart attack."

"I was afraid of that." A pause. "Do they know she'll wake up?"

There was a long stretch of silence from Dean, Sam watched his brother's face as it began to lose its steely expression. Lowering his head, Dean said, "No they don't - she's in a coma, Sammy. There's no telling when she'll wake up."

Sam was pretty sure his heart stopped beating.

Later that night, after spent most of his afternoon explaining to all of his teachers his absence, he finally went home to his and Jessica's apartment. There was little he could do at the hospital, except stare at his unconscious mother and his brother, who'd drawn so far into himself after his confession, that he barely responded to anything Sam did to try and coax him out of his stupor. On the way out of the hospital, he asked Cassie to call him if anything changed. "Try to get Dean out of the room, too," He said.

"Of course," Cassie replied. "I'll be sure to do that - both of those things. I'll see you later Sam."

Sam certainly hoped Cassie would honor both his requests. Lying in bed with Jessica, the younger Winchester appreciated the silence crowding in around him. Jessica lay against him, her head rested on his chest while her arm lay draped across his abdomen.

"Did they say when she'd wake up?" Hearing his own question thrown back at him by Jessica made him shift a little. She had been so quite the past half-hour that Sam was sure she'd fallen asleep. Sam shook his head; his hand caressed her hair slowly, trying to think of anything but his mother.

Jessica seemed to pick up on his uneasiness and changed the subject. "Is Dean alright?"

"Dean's fine. He's always fine," Sam groused. "But, really, he's beside himself with grief. He thinks he had something to do with mom's stroke."

"That's crazy," Jess murmured.

"I know it is, but you know Dean; he's responsible for the family's well being. If something goes wrong and feels he could've stopped it, he'll shoulder it like a badge of shame. There's no changing him, no matter you do. Dad was the same way."

There was a noncommittal grunt from Jess as she readjusted herself in the bed, Sam exhaled slowly and joined her as she rolled over on her side. Pressing his face against her shoulder blade, Sam closed his eyes. The time for talking was over now, as time passed, Jess was the first to fall asleep. Sam remained awake a little longer; his mind toiled over what he could do for his brother in their mother's stead.

If Dean had his way, he would remain in that chair until Mary woke up. Or crawl into his little corner of darkness and brood for eternity, playing "what if" scenarios until the cows came home.

While he depended on Carmen to prevent this, some small part of Sam hoped he would be the one to help his brother. Maybe it would help patch up the bridge both of them spent so much time slow burning since he hit puberty.

I'll be the one to fix everything this time. Just watch.

END.