Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, just my OC. Writing for fun.

A/N: Here's another update. Enjoy! Thank you for reading, following, favoriting, and reviewing.

Chapter 16: Death's Door

"Kaylee, Kaylee, I need you to….come on now….I need you to….a-apply pressure," Sam stuttered as he tried to help Bobby and me out of my sudden trance. I was shocked to the very core that Bobby could be dying right now. Dick shot him. He shot him. I didn't want it to be true. Sam turned to Bobby.

"Bobby? Bobby? Hey, hey, hey, hey. Hold on."

"Sam, is he dead?" Dean asked, while driving.

"I'm checking," Sam checked his pulse.

"Is he dead?!" Dean asked.

"Just drive, Dean! Bobby!" Sam cried.

"You gotta talk to me, Sam!" Dean yelled back.

"All right, he's breathing. There's a pulse," Sam said.

Dean was entering numbers on his phone. "Keep him upright. Stop the bleeding."

"I'm not an idiot, Dean! I know first aid for a friggin' bullet to the head!" Sam yelled back.

"I need the nearest trauma center."

"Hold on. Hold on," Sam said as tears rolled down my face. I didn't want Bobby to die.I was shaking with the blood of Bobby's on my fingers, while Sam held him up right beside me.

"What's the address?!"

"All right, Bobby, hang in there," Dean said and drove as fast as he could to the nearest hospital.

"Bobby! Just hold on! Kaylee….I need you…" I felt like I couldn't breathe. I could hear Sam calling for me, but everything just seemed to black out as I stared at Bobby's dying body.

~*SPN*~

We got to the hospital finally for what it seemed like forever. He was rolled onto a gurney with doctors following him at a quick pace. He was placed on the hospital bed.

"Page the neurosurgeon on call. Tell OR to put electives on hold," the doctor said.

I followed closely after Sam and Dean, still dressed in my outfit. I hadn't changed. Didn't have time to think about it. I was worried about Bobby.

"Move trauma 2 to bed 7 as soon as it's clean."

"Gunshot wound to the right frontal area, no exit wound found. Breathing spontaneously. Respiratory rate 18 and shallow. RST at 120. BP 90 over 60. GCS 5," the nurse said.

Everything seemed like a blur as it all happened so fast.

"Push 80 grams of Mannitol over 30. Prep for intubation," the doctor ordered.

"Air entry clear to bases." The nurse said.

"Let's get a central line in here now," the doctor conducted.

Sam stepped forward. "What's happening? Please just tell us –"

The doctor looked at us. "Get them out of here."

"Sorry. You need to stay out of their way," the nurse urged us to leave.

Another nurse cut open Bobby's shirt. I whimpered.

"That's our uncle," Dean stepped up.

"You got to stay back," the nurse suggested urgently.

"What are they doing?" Sam asked.

"We need to get him stable," she replied.

Dean nodded. "Okay, when are you gonna take the bullet out?"

"If we can get the swelling down, if it's in a place we can get to, if –"

Sam cut into what the nurse was trying to explain to us. "If he even lives that long."

The nurse shut the curtain, closing off of Bobby, so they could continue to work on him, while we just waited.

"Push 30 more of Mannitol over 10. CBC and 'lytes. Bolus him with 500 saline," we heard the doctor say.

"The vitals were stable two minutes ago," the nurse said.

"Well, he's crashing now," the doctor alerted her.

Instinctively I reached for Sam's hand and squeezed it tight. He tightened mine right back as we stood there.

After a few moments, the doctor opened the curtain and walked over to Dean. Sam was leaning on the wall close by.

"He's uh, stable for now. Just have to see," the doctor said.

~*SPN*~

It was now daylight. None of us had slept since Bobby went into surgery.

"So, there's nothing else we can do?" Sam asked the doctor.

The doctor shook his head. "I'm sorry. We just have to wait. We'll see if the swelling goes down."

"How long?" Dean asked.

"It's hard to say in cases like this," the doctor replied solemnly.

"Well, he's lasted this long. That's something, right?" Dean was trying to be hopeful. I was too.

"Well, yes. Listen – the bullet didn't shatter. Only one hemisphere of his brain was injured. These are all positive things. But...I don't want to give you false hope here. He's far from out of the woods. Most of the time, cases like this..."

"They die," Sam supplied for the doctor. I couldn't believe my ears right now. Inwardly I wanted to die.

We couldn't loose Bobby.

"Right now it comes down to him. I'll keep you updated."

The doctor left and a man came up beside us.

"Excuse me. Sorry to interrupt. Is one of you Robert Singer's next of kin?" he asked.

Dean was whisked away to talk to this man, and I urged Sam to sit down in the lobby area. "Come on," I whispered to him, pulling him along. Sam reluctantly walked away from the room. We went to sit down and heard a loud bang that made me wince. I could only suspect that was Dean. We sat there for a quiet while. I just held his hand and we leaned our heads against each others shoulders until the doctor came out and told us what was going on with another update. Then he left.

"So, uh, why were you with Dick Roman?" Sam asked.

I gawked at him. Was now really the time to ask? I guess maybe it was. I wasn't sure how to tell him. I shook my head. "It was stupid. I was, heh, on a date with him actually."

"Oh," Sam said.

"Yeah, it was nothing really. I…just…"

"It's okay, I mean it's not like we were dating," Sam said.

"Right," I said, my throat tightened. "Honestly had no clue he was a leviathan. I swear."

"I know," he said.

Silence spread over us like a blanket.

We waited again for Dean to return with a coffee in his hand.

"What did that guy want?" Sam asked.

"Uh, nothing. Just some insurance mook. Dick Roman was out there." Dean said.

Sam shifted upward in his seat. My head leaned off of him.

"What? What happened?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head. "Nothing...For now. It was just a friggin' staring contest. That was about it. What's the update?"

"The swelling's down a little. They took him off sedation. Apparently, he – he started fighting his tube. So they pulled them out, and he's breathing on his own," Sam replied.

"That's good, right? Is that good?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Well, doctor said best-case scenario."

"All right, so when they gonna take the bullet out?" Dean asked urgently.

Sam looked forlorn. "Dean, t-they're not even – they're not even gonna try that, not yet."

"What does that mean?"

"The word's "abrading," I think," Sam said.

"English," Dean pleaded.

"Cutting out the dead brain tissue," Sam supplied for him. I made a face and frowned.

"I don't know, Alex. I-I don't know," A man said, stopping right in the middle of the conversation we were having.

"That's if the doctor even thinks it's worth the risk," Sam said.

"You know, I, uh... You're working..." the woman said.

"I don't know," the man said.

"I'm, I'm…."

"Can I talk to you?" Sam asked Dean.

"What? Talk about what?" Dean asked.

"You know what," Sam said.

"No, we're not gonna have that conversation," Dean shook his head. My heart sunk for him.

"Well, we need to," Sam said.

"He's not gonna die," Dean said adamantly.

Sam frowned. "He might."

"Sam."

"Dean, listen-we need to brace ourselves," Sam tried again.

"Why?" Dean asked.

"Because it's real," Sam replied.

"What do you want to do? You want to hug and – and say we made it through it when Dad died? We've been through enough."

Sam and I looked at each other and I frowned, biting my lip. I didn't want this anymore than they did.

Dean walked away, shaking his head. Sam and I walked back over to sit down. He pressed his injured hand tightly. I wondered what that was about but didn't question it. I sat down beside him and looked at my own hands that were now dried blood from Bobby.

The nurse and another nurse walked towards Bobby's room hastily.

"Keep the head of the bed up for transport. IV can run off the pump. Just run a TKVO. We'll have to wait for respiratory."

Sam got up, alarmed. I followed suit. "Wait, wait, wait, wait. What's happening?"

"He's showing signs of responsiveness. We're taking him up for surgery. If you want to see him, I'd squeeze in there quick."

I looked at Sam. That had to be good news right?

Deean had returned after Sam called him with the sudden update. We were standing at Bobby's bedside.

"Sorry. We need to get moving," the nurse said hastily.

"Right. Yeah," Sam said. He looked at Dean and then at Bobby.

"Hey, um... Bobby, um, hey..." he took Bobby's hand in his. "Just... thanks... for everything."

"All right. Please step back," the nurse urged.

"Yeah," Dean said.

Bobby raised his hand up after Sam let go of it and he opened his eyes. My heart swelled up a bit when I saw him.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, stop. His eyes are open," Sam said.

"Bobby?" Dean asked.

"Hey," he said, and he put a hand on his shoulder, but Bobby took Sam's hand and then mine and laced it together. Then he removed the respirator covering his mouth and nose.

"What – don't talk. Don't talk. A pen – I – " Dean said. Dean grabbed the pen and a chart ad the end of the bed. "Here. Here, here, here," he handed it to Sam who handed it to Bobby.

"What is it?"

Bobby wrote 45489 on Sam's hand while he breathed heavily. He smiled at Sam, Dean, and I. He leaned closer to us.

"Idjits," he said. Then his head fell back onto the pillow and he closed his eyes. The monitor started to beep.

"Bobby? Hey!" Dean cried out. The moniter flat lined. No more Bobby Singer.

"Call a code-trauma room," the nurse said as they tried to revive him, but nothing was happening.

Bobby was long gone and my heart broke in half.

~*SPN*~

A/n: Ugh. My heart hurts I hated this episode so much. Poor Bobby and the boys ugh. Anyway more updates to come! Reviews, follows, and favorites and reads are always appreciated!