Chapter 4
As soon as Dean noticed the lack of both breath and pulse, he jumped to action. Sammy couldn't be gone.
Dean tilted Sam's chin up and commenced CPR. "One, two, three, four, five," he counted as his hands compressed Sam's chest.
This couldn't happen, not this way. It was just supposed to be a simple salt and burn.
Minutes passed and Sam wouldn't breath on his own.
"Damn it, Sam," Dean told his brother's limp form, "Now's not the time to be a hard-ass."
Hope was fading. It was hard to look at Sammy just lying there. He looked so relaxed, almost asleep.
"Come on!" Dean punched Sam's chest, just wanting one beat, one breath. He repeated this act of anger for several more punches.
Suddenly, the younger brother's body jolted upward, spine arching. Dean's ears filled with the glorious sounds of Sam hacking and coughing. Water was pouring out of his brother. Dean turned Sam onto his side to aid his breathing. Sweet relief washed over the eldest, wanting to crush his brother in a hug, but that wasn't the best option right at that moment.
Sam's coughs slowed and his body relaxed back into a limp mass, laying on the dock. Only this time, the unconscious body was breathing. And that was all Dean wanted.
