Disclaimer: I own the world and everything in it... ALL SHALL LOVE ME AND DISPAIR!.. except Supernatural, don't own them... DAMN
Not Good Enough
'Well someone else just died because of me!' Dean said, turning around to look at Sam.
'I didn't know,' Sam said feebly, knowing the answer wasn't good enough as his vision blurred from tears and pain.
Dean started to walk away, wondering how his brother could do something so foolish as to not check out the healer more thoroughly. In the back of his mind he knew it wasn't Sam's fault, but he couldn't help to feel a little resentment towards his brother who was the inadvertent cause of a man's death.
Sam stood to follow his brother as he walked away from him, but swayed unsteadily as his legs threatened to let him fall. One hand flew to his head while the other reached out to find something to use to steady himself. Blinding pain was tearing at him, making him want to rip his head open to find some relief.
"Dean," the name was no more than a whisper and Dean wouldn't have heard it if it hadn't been for his trained senses.
"What Sam?" Dean all but yelled, anger clear in his voice, as he answered his brother, still not turning around. "You really think that I would have let myself be healed if I had known it was at the expense of someone else?" It was worded as a question, but Dean didn't expect an answer.
"Please," the voice was the same as before, a whisper so low that only a trained hunter would hear it. Dean could hear the fear in his brother's voice, and he couldn't figure out why Sam would be afraid. Was he that imposing?
Dean turned around and his breath caught at the sight of his brother; deathly pale, holding his head in one hand, the other searching for something to hold on to. He realized at the exact moment that it happened, that Sam was searching for something to hold himself up, as he fell to the ground.
The fierce pain in his head left, only to be replaced by a burning in his chest; and Sam gasped, trying to breath through the burning pain. Dean dropped to his knees next to his brother and watched as Sam's eyes flashed open and fear appeared in their depths. Sam stayed on his knees, and looked at what seemed to be air, fear increasing as his face got a shade paler.
John Winchester walked through the tent, from a back entrance, toward the woman who stood chanting and holding a strange looking cross; even as his phone rang. He looked at the caller ID, and seeing that it was 'Sammy' again he opened the phone even as he walked closer to the woman.
"Yeah?" He asked, stopping for a moment to plan his course of attack.
"Dad?" The voice asked, that he knew wasn't Sam asked. "It's Dean," the voice said, and John could hear the fear even those words contained.
"What's wrong Dean?" John asked his son, anxiousness being voiced in his words.
"There's something wrong with Sam. I think it has something to do with that faith healer that he took me to see. He's gasping for air dad. God, he's so pale!" John could hear Dean moving around on the other side of the line, and the phone dropped. He yelled out his son's names, praying that he would get a response from one of them. 'Common Sammy! Don't do this. Don't you die on me!' John could hear Dean yelling from the other end of the phone.
John looked around and could see the healer with his hand on the head of a man that looked as if he had lung cancer, and then looked back to his wife. Making up his mind, he took three quick strides toward the woman and turned her around, ripping the necklace off in the same motion.
He watched as the man on stage stood up, looking healed for all the world to see, and his terror increased at the possibility that he had already lost his son. He put the phone to his ear again, and as he moved quickly out of the tent, he called his sons' names, hoping for a response from one of them.
"Dad, I have to call 911... he needs to get to the hospital." The words were all Dean spoke, before John heard the distinct dial tone. His heart sped up, and a cold fist squeezed around his heart, as John ran for his truck. Sam had to live, his boy would not die for his mistakes.
Dean pulled Sam, until his head was resting on his lap, making sure that his little brother was still breathing, even if those breaths were more like gasps. Because even a gasp was better than Sam not breathing at all. His little brother was so pale, and so still as he lie there, and Dean prayed to God that he was going to live.
Keeping an eye on Sam, he listened intently for the sound of sirens. He needed to know what had happened, and why it had stopped so abruptly. He needed to know if Sammy was going to be alright, and what was going to happen to his brother.
Dean heard the sirens at the same time that Sam's breathing started to get more strained than it already was. The gasps were becoming harsh wheezes, and it scared the shit out of Dean. He helped Sam to sit up and lean against him, tilting his head back to rest on his chest, to help open his airways a little more.
There was a pounding on the door, and Dean yelled out to them. "Hurry, my brother's dying... I don't know what to do." He added quietly to himself. The door was broken in, and paramedics ran into the room, taking in the sight before them with worried eyes.
Dean was moved away, as the male medic took his place behind Sam, and the female medic started to take tubing from the bag beside her. She inserted a clear tube down Sam's throat and attached a translucent blue bag to it, as Sam's breathing ceased all together.
"Dammit, we're losing him Jeff!" The woman said, even as they laid Sam down on a stretcher, and started to door compressions. The woman gave the bag three even squeezes and went back to pumping Sam's chest. The man, Chad, meanwhile strapped Sam to the stretcher, making sure he was secure before he went back to pumping air into Sam's deprived lungs.
There was still no pulse as Sam was loaded into the ambulance, and taken away; and Dean felt as if his heart had been ripped in two. God, the last thing he had told Sam, was that he basically wasn't good enough.
Dean shook himself, and ran for the Impala, following a little too closely to the ambulance, but at the moment all he cared about was his brother. They could arrest him for all he cared... after, he knew his brother was going to be alright.
Dean walked into the waiting room of the hospital, and stopped dead in his tracks as he saw who was sitting there. "Dad?" Dean asked, and John looked up at him, a strained smile lining his lips, as he stood to hug his son.
"Sammy called me about you being in the hospital, left a heart breaking message, so I figured I had to come." Dean nodded, accepting the words for what they were, asking for nothing more, and expecting nothing less. Both men sat down, ready to wait as long as it took.
TWO HOURS LATER:
"Family of Samuel Patricks?" A man in his late forties asked, as he walked into the waiting room. Both John and Dean were standing almost immediately.
"Yes?" Dean asked, impatience lining his tone.
The doctor smiled at the tone, knowing the man was only afraid for his brother. "Well Sam will be fine, let's just get that bit cleared up right now." John and Dean both breathed a sigh of relief at the news. "We couldn't figure out why Sam was having trouble breathing, but whatever the problem was, it's cleared up now. Sam is breathing on his own, with only a nasal cannula aiding him. His chest will be sore from the CPR for a while, and his throat may be sore from the tube for a few days, but other than that he is in perfect health." The doctor smiled again, and finished, "Now I can't tell you what happened to Sam, but if he ever has another episode like this again, get him to the nearest doctor fast; other than that there is nothing I can do to help him. I only recommend that he stays here for the next twenty four hours for observation."
"Thank you doctor, can we see him now?" Dean asked, and the man nodded, telling them exactly where to find Sam.
Dean and John walked into the room, to find Sam pulling at the thin clear tubing beneath his nose. He looked up when they both entered, and found himself gaping at his father. "Dad?" Sam asked, and John laughed.
"Have you two any idea how alike you are?" He asked, remembering Dean's first reaction to seeing him there. When he got nothing but blank stares from both sons, he smirked, and moved to Sam. "I got your message Sam, and I came to see if there was anything I could do. Turns out it was the preachers wife the whole time. She was using a reaper."
"I know, I saw." Both Sam and Dean said at the same time. They both turned to each other and stared, while John shook his head.
"Well I'm just glad I let it free before it killed you Sam," John said and Sam looked back to him.
"I am too." Sam said simply, both Dean and John laughed, and John hugged him, grateful that he still had both sons; and he was going to make sure it stayed that way.
A/N: I know sappy and crappy.
Please tell me what you think... Push the little button, or the Impala will be crushed in a junk yard... Repeatedly.