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, One accident. One life. Gone.
Member No.: 12,059
Joined: 10-November 06
I think I'm possessed right now.
Haha, ok, so that's the only reason I can think of that I'm posting this. Either that or it's because I feel the need to share this story with someone. This story is actually one of my 'One of Three' stories. I was going to continue it on from there, but decided to make it into a new story to keep away from confusion. I got pretty much an equal response to all three stories, but this one has resparked my writing interest, and so I'll post some of this. That and I have a fair amount written of it, so I can update easier.
Ok, so the story I chose is called 'Casper's Lullaby'. A car accident causes the brother's lives to change forever. That's all I want to say about it because pretty much any more and I'd spoil stuff. I also have a favor to ask of you all... and it's simple... trust me. As you read through this story, just trust me. To put it simply I'm a bitch. Haha, if you read my other story I love to jerk my readers around. Though I will say one
thing now-- none of this story is a dream or vision or anything like that. It's all real. Also what might make you happy is that I have this story completely planned out, so you won't have to worry about it being like my other one where I had no clue what was going to happen.
One last thing-- I get lots of my insperation from songs. I got this one from the song 'Casper's Lullaby' by James Horner. The song, to me, is sad and bitter sweet... something my story is going to be full of. I found the song on youtube, and I highly recommend you listen to it either while reading this or before hand-- you'll know where the feeling of this story comes from. Link --> Casper's Lullaby-- Youtube
Anyways-- on with the story. I'm going to post what I had given you all before, plus some added onto that. Enjoy!
“Sammy please,” Dean’s voice quivered; his lower lip trembling with each breath that escaped, “please Sammy… just stop fighting… please…”
Dean's hand brushed lightly against Sam's face. Tears blocked Dean’s vision as he stared into Sam’s eyes. The younger brother had a long tube sticking out of his mouth, though his eyes showed the pain that was truly there.
Seventy percent of his body.
That’s how much the doctors told Dean was burnt on his baby brother. Skin grafts, time and surgery might take care of most of it. His left arm would have to be removed, and even so, doctors were worried about infection and organ failure. Over all, the chances of Sam Winchester’s survival were less than ten percent.
“Please Sammy,” Dean whispered, his whole body shaking, “Please Sammy… I won’t be mad I promise,” Dean gave a hiccoughed laugh before forcing a smile, “You can come haunt me later. I just--”
Silent tears marked their way down Sam’s face. It was cruel, Dean thought, how his face was burn free. How Sam’s face was still… Sam’s. White dressings and cloths covered everything bellow the neck, but the eyes which stared pain filled back at Dean were the ones he knew.
“I’m so sorry,” Dean shook his head slowly, “I’m sorry.”
Sam’s head arched back in a sudden burst of pain and Dean was forced to close his eyes. There was nothing they could do, the doctors said, for the pain. His heart was too weak for strong sedatives, and although they were pumping him with morphine, it barely took the edge off the pain.
‘Just be there for him
,’ was what the doctor had told him. Hold him, and love him. Dean had no problem doing that. It was when his little brother was in so much pain that his eyes were squeezed shut and tears forced their way down his chapped cheeks that the eldest brother wanted it all to end. Wanted the suffering to stop. …wanted Sammy to just stop fighting.
“Hurry up Sam, it’s time to hit the road!” Dean yelled out towards the bathroom.
The door opened up, and Sam walked out, his face pale except for his bright pink cheeks. He wore jeans and a white tank top, stumbling slightly as he walked into the room.
“Jesus Sammy,” Dean forced back a laugh, “You look like crap.”
“Thanks,” Sam muttered, taking a deep, stuttering breath, “Next time you want to give me something, give me money. Give me a deck of cards… hell, deck me upside the head. Just-- keep your damn flu bug to yourself.”
Dean laughed and clapped Sam on the shoulder, “Don’t worry-- it only lasts for about a day.”
“Comforting,” Sam panted, leaning against the doorframe leading outside.
“You got a plastic bag or something?” Dean questioned as he popped open the trunk to his Impala, his little brother lagging behind, “Because I swear, if you hurl in my car, I’m going to give you a lot more than a flu.”
Sam smirked, and held up an old Wal-Mart bag which he’d shoved some napkins in the bottom of.
“Good job Sammy.”
“Call me that again and I’m going to puke on you next time,” Sam threatened.
Dean laughed as he worked on putting all of their things in the trunk. It wasn’t much, but rather than getting Sam’s help in doing it, the elder brother eagerly volunteered to pack it all up. Two days earlier he’d been the one who was curled up in bed, getting sick seemingly every hour, and Sam had been more than helpful. And now, through all the teasing, Dean still hated to see his baby brother sick, and he knew he’d do anything to make it better for him.
“About ready to go Sam?” Dean questioned, “New York is about three days away, so you should be fine by the time we get there.”
“Gimmie a minute,” Sam just managed to get out before having to dash to the tree lined property.
Dean patiently waited for his brother to finish getting sick. Surprisingly when Sam walked over to the car, he looked much better, and Dean took this small sign as a good thing. The brothers got into the car, and Dean started up the engine. The Impala was often used in dangerous or high speed things, and so when that was being done, the occupants would use the seatbelts. When they were simply traveling along the highway, however, comfort came before safety.
And so as Dean gently pulled out of the parking lot of the crummy motel, neither brother had on a seatbelt when the red Malibu smashed into the front of the Impala.
“Son of a bitch
!” Dean cried out, his body slamming into the door.
Immediately Dean swung open his door, and bolted to the front of the car to try and stop the man who had backed into his precious car. A quick ‘oh crap!
’ escaped the mysterious man’s mouth before he speed off down the road.
“God damn it!” Dean shouted, throwing the nearest rock he could find at the fleeing car.
He then turned around to where Sam was still sitting in the car, staring wide-eyed out the windshield towards Dean. The elder brother rushed over, getting back into the driver’s side.
“Are you ok Sam?” Dean breathed, looking Sam up and down.
Sam swallowed hard, “I think so. How ‘bout you?”
“I’m fine,” Dean confirmed, “That bastard just plowed into my car.”
“Was he d-drunk?” Sam asked, clutching his sick page wirily.
“I don’t know,” Dean tried to start the car up again, and sighed in relief when it did, “But part of the front is smashed pretty good,” he glanced at Sam, “And you don’t look so great yourself.”
“Get the car checked out,” Sam muttered barely audibly.
“Yeah,” Dean nodded, and pulled out onto the highway, “The next station is about twenty minutes away-- you can relax for a bit while I get the car looked at.”
Sam nodded, and leaned his head back against the seat. Dean glanced a worried look towards his little brother, but reassured himself that he would be fine soon. The car had only been driving for ten minutes before Dean noticed something that would start the chain reaction to change his life as he knew it.
Small puffs of smoke began to pillow out from the hood of the Impala-- something Dean at first thought to maybe be steam from the hot sun. He pulled the car to the side of the road, glancing over to see Sam sleeping relatively peacefully.
“Come on,” Dean muttered as he pulled the lever to pop the hood, “I just want you to make it to the station baby. Sammy can’t walk that far right now.”
The smoke shot out even more, and was darker now as Dean rounded to the front of the car. His heart beat quickened as Dean glanced at the engine-- his breath catching his throat. Flames licked around the gears and pistons.
“No,” Dean gasped before yelling, “Sam! Sam get out!
Sam’s head snapped up, and the younger brother looked blurry eyed at Dean through the smoke. Again Dean yelled for him to get out of the car.
Maybe it was because Sam had been sick.
Maybe it was because the young Winchester had been hurt more than he let on when the Malibu smashed into the Impala.
Or maybe… it was fate.
The flames grew higher and licked at the gas tank. Dean knew what was going to happen, and though Sam had managed to get the passenger door open, he still remained sitting in the seat, seemingly knowing that it was too late.
!” Dean cried out, making a bolt for the car.
Sam was right; it was too late.
The car let out a mighty explosion, sending Dean flying backwards over ten feet. By the time he returned to standing, the whole car was on fire, and, to his horror, Sam was crawling on the ground by the ditch.
Completely engulfed in bright orange flames.
” Dean screamed out, “No!”
Before he could even get to Sam, Dean had his jacket off. Sam was rolling frantically on the ground, trying feebly to put out the flames before Dean threw his jacket on him, patting away at them.
“It’s ok, it’s ok,” Dean muttered breathlessly as the flames died away, “It’s going to be ok Sammy.”
One look at his baby brother, and Dean knew he was deathly wrong. All of Sam’s clothing was singed and black; harsh red marks bore through where his clothing was burnt right to his skin. The smell of burning flesh caused the tears to come even quicker down Dean’s face.
“D-Dean…” Sam gasped.
“Shh,” Dean cradled Sam’s head, which somehow had hidden from the fire, “I’m here Sam, I’m right here.”
“I-I can-can’t feel anything…” Sam stuttered out, his green eyes looking pleadingly up at Dean.
“I know,” Dean choked out, “Everything’s going to be ok Sammy. I promise.”
With his hands fumbling, Dean pulled out his cell phone and dialed 911. His eyes burnt from the smoke and tears, and the one ring it took for somebody to pick up seemed to last a lifetime.
“911, what is your emergency?” the response came through the phone.
“I need an ambulance!” Dean immediately cried out, “There-there was a fire in my car. A fire, and my brother is burnt bad!”
“Alright Sir, where are you at?” the lady’s calm voice frustrated Dean.
“I-I’m, umm…” Dean’s frantic eyes scanned around, his brain blanking, “Damn it lady, I don’t know where the hell I am! There’s GPS on this phone, find out! I need an ambulance, please!
“Alright,” why wasn’t the lady panicking!?
“You said that your brother is hurt? How old is he?”
“He’s a hundred and two!” Dean shot out sarcastically, “He’s twenty-four, what does it matter how old he is? I need help!”
“Just calm down Sir, and I’ll try my best to assist you,” the lady was unfazed by Dean’s outcries, “Is your brother conscious right now?”
Dean sucked in a breath quickly before looking down at Sam’s face. His eyes were opened, but unfocused as he stared into nothing.
“I-I don’t know,” Dean’s voice had gone to a whisper.
The lady on the other end paused a moment before speaking again, “Does he have a heartbeat?”
Dean’s bloodied finger shook as he placed it against the side of Sam’s neck; a weak pulse felt, “Y-Yes. But it’s not very strong.”
“Alright Sir, we have your position, and help is on the way,” the lady reassured, “Someone should be there in about five minutes.”
Dean numbly thanked the lady and zoned out. People came, as she promised, five minutes later, though who exactly it was, Dean wasn’t sure. All he cared about was not letting Sam out of his sight. Everything was a blur as the people around him rushed around to try and help Sam, and make sure that Dean was ok. Words were thrown out that Dean knew he should have been paying attention to, but he couldn‘t. He couldn’t concentrate on anything but making sure he could always see Sam. Like if he was out of his sight for even a moment that Dean would never again see him again. Soon the paramedics had stabilized Sam on the scene, and were ready to put him into an ambulance and to the nearest hospital. Quickly Dean followed in the back of the ambulance, and they were off. By the time they’d made it to the hospital, Sam was completely unconscious, and Dean was forced away from him.
...to be continued...
Member No.: 12,059
Joined: 10-November 06
Haha, this story is for you Mizpah!
I think this is why it's a bad thing when I have a decent amount of a story done as I'm posting it... I get too eager to post it! So I'll post this one now, and then hold back for a day or two.
Thank you so much Mizpah for your review-- I know this story is seeming to be 'scary', but... it's like a rollar coaster. They're scary as hell when you're on them, but when you're done-- you want to do it again. Enjoy!
The waiting room was cold and sterile. Dean hated waiting in it, and looking at all of the other people that sat there. Each person thinking that their problem was worse than the others and complaining when the nurse would send them repeatedly back to their seat.
“This is ridiculous,” one pudgy lady spoke loudly as she held an icepack to her right arm, “This place has no respect for someone who is hurt!”
Dean stood up in frustration and looked at her, “If you want to really be hurt and need a reason for being here, then keep talking, otherwise keep your pie-hole shut lady.”
The lady’s mouth gapped open, but Dean walked away before she could make any reply back. The outside of the hospital saw a lot of Dean Winchester throughout the day as the doctors worked on Sam. Random useless updates were given to Dean. Sam was in surgery.
Sam was out of surgery, but was unconscious and had a breathing tube down his throat.
Sam was having a complete scrub down of his burns.
Sam was being given such-and-such a drug to do something Dean didn’t understand.
Sam’s left arm wouldn’t be able to be saved.
Sam’s body was over seventy percent burnt.
Sam was awake.
It was the last notice that brought Dean back into the hospital at nearly ten at night. As Dean followed Sam’s doctor; a Doctor Jensen, Dean was briefed on what to expect.
“Sam is awake right now, but still has a breathing tube down his throat, so he won’t be able to talk,” Dr. Jensen explained, “He has a white sheet on from the neck down covering and protecting the bandages and burns. His face is pink from the heat, but amazingly came out ok from the fire. He’ll hear and understand everything that you tell him.” he stopped by a door, “Do you understand?”
“Y-Yeah,” Dean breathed, “Umm… the tube in his throat… will that come out?”
“Hopefully in the morning,” Dr. Jensen nodded, “When we operated on him, we needed to use a significant amount of drugs on him, and with his weakened body the tube was necessary to assist in his breathing.”
“Thank you,” Dean whispered and followed the doctors motion into the room.
Dean’s breath caught in his throat at the horrific site. Sam lay on a bed; a large white sheet draped across every part of his body but his head. A thick, clear tube came out of his throat and was connected to a machine that looked almost as big as his body. A rhythmic beeping sound indicated Sam’s heart beat, and as Dean got closer, he could clearly see Sam’s face. Never before could he remember seeing that amount of fear in his little brother’s usually placid eyes.
“Hey Sammy,” Dean whispered hoarsely as he looked down, “Don’t worry, I’m here.”
“I have to go for a bit, but if you need anything just press the button beside the bed,” Dr. Jensen spoke up.
“Thank you Doctor,” Dean struggled to keep his voice calm.
Dr. Jensen nodded and left through the door. Forcing a smile Dean looked back down at Sam and lightly brushed his hand across his brother’s cheek.
“What a day huh?” Dean choked on a laugh, “But, umm, just hang on ok Sam? ‘Cause everything will be ok, I promise. The doctor told me that you’ll be able to maybe have the tube taken out of your throat in the morning, and then you can try talking. But, uhh, just rest right now, ok Sammy? I won’t go anywhere.”
For the entire night Dean stayed awake. Though Sam eventually fell into a restless, morphine induced sleep, Dean remained awake, watching over his little brother as he had been taught his entire life to do. Eight o-clock in the morning came to the restless Winchester’s with a visit from Doctor Jensen.
“How are we this morning?” Dr. Jensen question.
Dean stretched his stiff limbs, “Sammy slept a couple of hours.”
“And you?” Dr. Jensen frowned.
Dean stared over at his brother for a moment before answering, “I’m fine.”
A nurse walked into the room at that moment, and Doctor Jensen smiled, “Well, if you’re all ready, I think we’re going to take out the breathing tube now. Sam’s vitals are doing good, and he should be able to breath on his own.”
Dean nodded nervously and watched as the nurse and doctor huddled over a wide-eyed Sam. It took less than a minute once they started, leaving Sam able to breath on his own.
“Alright,” Dr. Jensen brought over a cup with a straw sticking out of it, “I want you to try and take a sip of this Sam.”
Carefully Sam drank from the cup.
“Alright Sam,” Dr. Jensen nodding approvingly, “Can you try and talk for me?”
“D-Dean,” Sam hoarsely stuttered out.
A large grin spread across Dean’s face, “Hey Sammy.”
“I’ll leave you two a few minutes to talk,” Dr. Jensen smiled, “If he starts having trouble breathing or very bad pain just call me.”
“Thanks Doc,” Dean managed to whisper out before turning back to Sam.
“Dean…” Sam breathed, “H-How b-bad?”
Dean bit his lower lip, unsuccessfully stopping the tears, “Umm, it’s bad Sammy, but, you know it-it’ll be alright.”
Sam squeezed his eyes shut, “I’m sorry.”
“No, no, Sam!” Dean quickly cried out, “You have nothing
to be sorry about. I-I should have checked the car right away after we were hit,” Dean let out a small sob, “I’m so sorry Sammy…”
The morning that Sam’s breathing tube was removed proved to be deceiving in every hurtful way possible. That small act had given Dean the hope that things would be ok; that Sam would get better. Sam started talking more and more through the morning, and even making a snide joke or two. Sure, Sam was burnt bad and would need numerous skin grafts and therapy, but Dean knew that they could work through it. Sam’s left arm was hurt the worst in the fire; Doctor Jensen theorizing that Sam had used that arm to shield his face from the fire. The operation to remove the arm was to be done the next day, and Sam had even accepted that. The younger brother wowed Dean in everyway possible with his will to live and to make the best of the accident. For nearly twelve hours Dean had fully convinced himself that years down the road he’d still be best friends with his brother, and that this was just another one of those bad things that they managed to live through.
For nearly twelve hours Dean had hope.
...to be continued...
Well, I hope that those who are reading this are enjoying it! I know I am! Thanks again!
Member No.: 11,144
Joined: 16-October 06
Poor Dean - thinking that the improvements were going to last. I suppose that there was just too much damage.....
Glad Dean gave that whingey woman in the waiting room a piece of his mind - lol. I can understand how frustrating it is hearing someone rabbit on about a minor thing when your own family is going through hell on earth...been there, done that, got the death certificate....
I keep going back to that harrowing scene of Dean telling Sam to let go, and then scrolling back up to your opening comments....and I'm going to trust you.
I'm seriously biting my fingernails down to the quick, but I'm a Pollyanna at heart, so I'll just take up origami, make an extra strong scotch&dry, put on my rose-coloured glasses and wait for the next update.
Oh, and don't worry about the reviews - people are cautious on the boards these days. Lots of stories have been started and never finished, and readers no longer want to get immersed in a story only to have it abandoned. So they hang back, and wait to see what a new author is going to do before they commit.
And then there are the faithful lurkers who will read, but not review. Just watch your read count, and you'll know they're there.
*can't find origami paper...goes back to biting nails*
Member No.: 12,059
Joined: 10-November 06
Hiya! Haha, I managed to wait a full two days to post this. So first, I must apologize-- haha, I didn't realize that I'd killed the Impala. Poor... poor beautiful car...
Anyways, this next chapter is going to be kind of intense, and I want to say before you read that in no way am I a doctor, nore have I ever played one on tv. All of the medical stuff I have going on here is mostly just educated guesses along with a small amount of knowledge from my 'I-want-to-be-a-doctor-oh-crap, I-can't-I'm too-dumb' phase.
Either way, I hope you enjoy, and know there's still about... three or four more 'chapters' left. See ya!
At first Dean didn’t know what was happening. Sam suddenly arched his chest up and began to shake violently. Dean slammed his finger into the ‘call nurse’
button before going to Sam’s side.
“Sam!” Dean’s eyes were wide, “Sammy!”
His little brother was unresponsive as his eyes stared unknowing through small slits. All Dean could do was stare as Sam’s body shook and convulsed in front of him for nearly thirty seconds before someone rushed in. Immediately Dean was shoved into the hallway as more nurses and Doctor Jensen entered the room.
“No, no, no…” Dean gasped as he crashed backwards into a nurse’s station.
Someone yelled out to get a crash cart and Dean felt his breath catch in his throat. People were running in and out of Sam’s room, and all Dean could do was numbly watch.
“Come with me,” a kind voice spoke from beside Dean.
Dean looked over to see a pleasant looking nurse looking sympathetically at him. Her badge read ‘Nurse Erin
’, and Dean was vaguely aware of the fact that he hadn’t seen her before in the hospital.
“My brother is Sam,” the sentence came out of Dean’s mouth in near a whisper, but somehow seemed important to say.
“I know Sweetie,” Erin spoke just as softly, “And your name is Dean. Why don’t you come with me while they help your brother.”
Dean’s lower lip trembled, “They can’t help him.”
“They’ll try their best,” Erin lead Dean to a chair in the waiting area, “Doctor Jensen is the best doctor in our burn unit. Why don’t you tell me about Sam?”
Dean’s body shook all over as he forced down the feeling of being sick, “He’s my brother, you know… he’s… he’s the only person that’s always been there for me,” Dean covered his face with one hand, the tears clearly evident on his unshaven face, “If he… if he dies I don’t know…”
The words were too difficult to get out after that and the hunter was reduced to nothing but strangled sobs as he hung his head low. Erin’s hand rubbed gently along Dean’s back for the longest five minutes Dean had ever experienced.
“Dean?” the voice was that of Doctor Jensen.
“Yes,” Dean was to his feet in an instant, his red eyes staring at the doctor, “What-what happened?”
“Your brother had a seizure,” Dr. Jensen spoke somberly, “A bad one. We were able to restart his heart, and stabilize his breathing, but I’m afraid things aren't going quite as well as we’d hoped they would.”
“But he was ok,” Dean’s voice was small and desperate, “I mean… not ok-ok, but he was talking. He was even laughing.”
“I know,” Dr. Jensen chose his words carefully, “Dean, let me explain a few things to you. Your brother is extremely lucky on so many things right now. His brain is blocking out the pain which would normally be debilitating for a person. With the amount of burns and the severity of the burns, Sam would have normally been put into a drug induced coma, but because the pain receptors in his brain aren’t picking up the signals, he appears to not be able to feel anything. What’s happening now is that his body is going into shock. Small bursts of pain are shooting through to his brain, causing strong bouts of immense pain and seeming to temporarily shut down his system. We got his heart started again, though the rate is high and weak. Each time the electrical defenses let through pain, your brother will react. It could be a mild trauma, or what happened just a few moments ago. Either way with each one his body gets weaker and weaker. Sam has several more surgeries that we need to do, but with his body slipping this severely into what is known as burn shock, we have to wait for him to stabilize more.”
A cold, sinking feeling filled the bottom of Dean’s stomach, “Then umm… just put him into t-the coma. Do that and let him get well enough to operate and make him better.”
“I’m sorry Dean,” Dr. Jensen’s face showed the sincere sympathy that his words spoke, “We can’t do anything. Even to try and up the pain killers would be enough to send him into irreversible cardiac arrest. There is no way he would survive surgery.”
Dean’s body trembled as Erin wrapped and arm around him, “W-What can I do?”
Doctor Jensen looked into the pleading, tear filled eyes of the man in front of him, and said the only words he could say to a man who was to face the death of a loved one, “Just be there for him.”
For the next twenty-four hours Dean continued to stand vigil by Sam. Doctor Jensen was right; Sam’s body continued to have seizures or pain spasms throughout the day. Dean hated watching them. Seeing his brother in so much pain that his back arched high and his eyes squeezed shut in insurmountable pain. Soon Sam stopped talking. Garbled sounds would escape his brother’s mouth, but nothing that Dean could decipher as actual words. They were forced to once again place a breathing tube back into Sam after one particularly bad seizure. Because of the extent of Sam’s injuries, Doctor Jensen had told Dean that his brother was unable to produce tears.
He had been painfully wrong.
After one episode of pain Dean stared down at Sam’s red face and saw a small tear crawling down his scared features. It was this small thing that caused Dean to make the choice that would haunt him forever.
“Please Sammy,” Dean’s voice was more pleading than it had ever been, “Please just give up.”
Hours would craw by as all Dean could do was watch Sam suffer. Doctor Jensen told Dean many times to leave and get away from the situation; even just for five minutes, but the elder brother refused to, instead choosing to watch and be there.
And now as Dean sat, watching Sam’s body slowly relax from his latest fit, angry tears swept down Dean’s face, “You’re a selfish bastard Sam. All you care about is yourself!”
Sam’s eyes were only half staring at Dean as his body floated between conscious states. All his life Dean had tried to protect Sam from getting hurt, and all his life Sam had tried to please his big brother. Now the two things were clashing in a horrific way.
“Dean…” a voice came from the doorway and the elder brother turned around to see Nurse Erin standing there.
“I’m sorry,” Dean panted.
Erin shook her head, “Don’t apologize to me Dean. You’re upset, I understand that. But why are you mad at Sam?”
Dean’s whole body quivered, “I-I can’t watch him die… I can’t watch my brother die!
“Then why are you asking him to give up?” Erin’s calmness reminded Dean sickeningly of the 911 operator.
The brother’s hand was over his mouth as he spoke barely audibility, “Because he’s hurting and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”
Slowly and carefully Erin placed an arm around Dean, who surprised even himself when he let it stay. For now his eyes were transfixed on Sam who, despite the outburst, had seemed to fall back into a pain filled sleep. It was early morning, and the sun came through the window at just the right angle to light up Sam’s body. The statistics had come the evening before. Ten percent.
That was the chance of survival for Sam Winchester. Their family had came through a lot of things throughout their lives, but a chance that small was something hard to beat. The pain that radiated through Sam’s eyes nearly constantly now made Dean realize that this was one fight he hoped Sam would loose.
“Is Sam a fighter Dean?” Erin asked abruptly.
“What?” Dean’s breathing was uneven as he looked over at the nurse.
“Is he a fighter?” though Dean looked at Erin, the nurse continued to look over at Sam as she spoke.
“He, umm…” Dean paused a moment in thought, “Yeah, he is.”
“Then trust that he will make the right choice,” Erin spoke confidently, “He’ll either fight to live, or fight to die.”
...to be continued...
Member No.: 11,144
Joined: 16-October 06
While I can't comment on the medical stuff (I'm a bookkeeper, not a doctor, dammit!) I can comment on Dean's feelings. I've been where Dean is. And I've had to tell a beloved family member that it was time to let go - that it was all right to move on.
And unless a person has been in that situation, it's hard to understand the level of desperation and anguish that you reach when you just can't stand to see them fighting a losing battle for one minute longer.
Dean's overwhelming sorrow and grief was very well done. And the anger is understandable, too. Thank heavens for nurse Erin - she seems like a bit of an angel in disguise...as long as she's not a reaper....
However, I hope Sam keeps fighting and pulls through, and that there's a miracle or two in your bag of tricks for the youngest Winchester. Because a miracle for Sammy means a blessing for Dean, too.
Member No.: 12,059
Joined: 10-November 06
Haha, hey y'all!
I got some new readers on this-- that's awesome. I know this update took a bit longer to post-- sorry. I'm just adjusting to my new job. But I do have a chapter for you all... umm... please don't hate me. Haha, you can read it and then tell me exactly
what you think. I'll be expecting some bad stuff from you all, but don't worry-- my feelings are unbreakable! This is a little bit of a shorter update. I was going to write a bit more to it, but figured where I left it was the perfect place to leave it for this chapter. I'd say to enjoy this... but-- haha, happy reading!
Irony was something that Dean looked at from a childish point of view. A pig slaughterer being a vegetarian. A pilot who was afraid of heights. The term was something to associate a small laugh with. But when dawn broke on a day none other than Friday the 13th, Dean’s heart sunk. The day started off quietly; Sam having had no seizures or fits for hours.
“Doc, is that a good sign?” Dean whispered desperately to Dr. Jensen during morning rounds.
Doctor Jensen paused in thought, “Your brother… he’s quickly loosing his battle, but he’s fighting very hard.” Damn you Sammy.
It was almost like Sam was playing one last spiting act on Dean. Not only would the younger brother pick a fight with their Dad right before John had died, but he was now going to try and make Dean as pissed as possible before he
“I won’t be mad,” the tears which had been present so often since the accident continued to fall down Dean’s face as he sat beside a semiconscious Sam, “Sammy, I promised I won’t be pissed… I-I just want you to stop hurting.”
Slowly and carefully Sam’s head moved back and forth in a negative answer.
Dean let out a desperate laugh, “You-you’re kidding right? I mean… after everything…”
Wordlessly Dean got up and walked out into the hallway. His face red and pink, the elder brother leaned against the wall and collapsed to the ground. His head sunk helplessly into his arms as Dean sobbed quietly to himself.
“Dean… Dean, Sweetheart, are you ok?” Dean looked up through his blurred vision, and saw Nurse Erin’s concerned face looking at him.
“No… no, I’m not ok,” Dean managed to whisper out.
“Talk to me,” Erin spoke simply.
“When someone dies, one of the first questions their family asks the doctor is if they suffered,” Dean struggled to keep himself together as he talked, “But I know. I know
. Sam is suffering. I’m watching him every minute of the day be in pain and hurting more than his body can handle. The doctors, they-they can lie, you know?” Dean’s brows scrunched up as the tears forced their way out, “They can just say that ‘no, they didn’t suffer’. Tell them that it was quick, and it was painless. But I can’t. I can’t do that!
I can see him… I can see Sammy hurting…”
“He’s doing this for you,” Erin attempted to explain, “He’s trying to hold on for you. Dean, what you don’t realize that not only if Sam dies, are you never going to see him again… but he’ll
never be able to see his big brother again. He loves you more than anything, and he doesn’t want to loose you any more than you want to loose him.”
“I-I can’t do this,” Dean spoke the words he’d said so many times as he slowly got to his feet, “Sam is not going to live on in pain because of me any longer.”
With legs of rubber, Dean walked back into Sam’s room. For a moment he looked over at the body on the bed. It wasn’t his brother anymore. Sam Winchester was a man who would brood over sad puppies and laugh at stupid jokes. Sam was a man who would fight for what meant the most, and never believe that a persons fate was already set in stone. The man laying on the bed, covered in a pristine white sheet was no longer Dean’s brother.
“Sammy,” Dean swallowed as he got closer to the bed, “Dude… it’s time. Please, please,” Dean squeezed his eyes shut, “Please
… just… I don’t want to watch this anymore.”
For the first time in hours, Sam’s eyes fully opened as he looked up at Dean.
The stubble on Dean’s face caught the continued flow of tears, “I love you Sam… you know that… which is why… just stop. I won’t- I won’t be mad. Please.”
The tears that fell down Sam’s face only caused more pain to pulse through Dean.
“Come on!” Dean’s sudden loud voice shocked even himself, “Stop doing this! Stop trying to be the hero, it won’t work!”
With a violent hand, Dean smashed a jug of water and several cups off of a small table. His breath came in ragged gasps as he stared at Sam.
“Never in your life have you cared what I thought, why now huh?” emotions splashed through Dean, “Your final act is to piss me off? Well it’s not going to work you bastard. It’s not going to work!
Two hours later Sam Winchester was gone.
...to be continued...