What Did He Say To You, Dean?

by Surplus Imagination

Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters belong CW Network and its creators. This writing is for pleasure only. No profit is intended.

A/N: This is the missing moments from when John left Dean's room until his death. I keep running John's whispered conversation through my mind. This is what I think he said.

Dean could feel his father's beard scratch his cheek as John leaned in close. The man smelled strongly of sulfur and smoke. His breath held a hint of whiskey. Dean's heart hammered at the implications. Why was his father acting this way, saying these things?

"Dean, you have to trust me. Sammy's the one. He's going to end all this. You have to protect him with everything you have. You have to protect him, even from himself."

John paused as his breathing hitched. Dean tensed further. His hands gripped the sheets harder.

"If something should happen to me, don't forget to salt and burn my bones. I love you, son. Tell your brother that I love him, too. You have to stay and protect your brother."

Dean looked at his father sharply. What the hell? His body started to shake from anxiety. Something was seriously wrong here.

John grasped Dean's shoulder one last time, and quietly left the room.

Nausea flooded Dean's stomach. He ran one nervous hand through his spiky hair. The hospital bed sheets were painfully soft against his skin. They burned like acid comfort. He needed to get out of bed and follow his father. The problem was, his body wasn't ready to move.

Legs heavy from inactivity barely responded to his efforts shift them over the edge of the bed. Dean felt woozy as the blood rushed to his head. He heard Sam's panicked scream from down the hall. Help! Someone help me!

Eyes wide with fear, Dean summoned his iron-will and slid off the bed. The floor was cold and hard to feet barely able to support his weight. He gripped the bedrail in an effort to steady himself. Outside the room a nurse with a crash cart raced by.

Dad…oh God, no…

Dean forced his legs to obey him and hobble across the room. Sam came rushing in just has Dean's equilibrium gave out causing him to tumble toward the floor.

"Whoa!" Sam grabbed his brother just before he hit the floor. "Dean, are you okay?" He asked with concerned eyes, panicked eyes.

"Help me up, Sammy," Dean pleaded.

Sam hoisted Dean's weight up pulling an arm over his shoulder. Dean grunted as he was lifted to his feet. Damn, but Sam was tall.

"Dean, it's Dad. Something's wrong. I found him on the floor two rooms down," Sam rushed. "He's collapsed."

"Hurry, Sammy," Dean whispered, willing the room to stop spinning. Where was his strength? "Take me to him." Dean tried to take some of his own weight from his younger brother, but failed again. He hated this weakness. A sharp pain stabbed in him the ribs as Sam wrapped his other arm around his chest and lifted. Sam carried Dean out of the room to where his father lay.

The two brothers arrived just in time to see the final moments of John's life. Something in Dean died as the time of death was called. He was the one living on borrowed time, not his father. He choked down a sob that threatened to tear his soul. Sam was holding him so tightly that agony ripped through his ribs and made the room spin. He started to sag even more against his brother's chest. The room grew smaller as he faintly heard someone say, "You had better get him back to his room. There's been enough loss in your family today. Don't take a chance with him."

The return to the hospital room was a blur of pain and emotion. He heard Sam beg for him to open his eyes just as darkness claimed him. Dean welcomed the darkness. It kept him from hearing Sammy cry.

The room was dim with evening shadows when Dean awoke. Sam was asleep on a chair pulled close to the bed. His unruly hair stuck to his face around obviously damp eyes. Dean became aware that Sam tightly clutched one of his hands. He hadn't let go even in sleep.

Dean took the silent moment to study his brother. Most of the wounds from the wreck were healing nicely. Dean could see grime built up around his hairline and at the collar of his shirt. It was obvious that Sam hadn't changed his clothes in days. He probably hadn't eaten either, knowing how his brother reacted to worry. Sam might be healing, but he certainly wasn't taking care of himself. Dark circles of fatigue pooled under his eyes.

His father's words came back to him in an unwelcome rush. Dean, you have to trust me. Sammy's the one. He's going to end all this. You have to protect him with everything you have. You have to protect him, even from himself.

"I will, Dad. I promise," Dean whispered to the pain in his heart.

The words roused Sam. He woke with a start. "Dean! Are you okay, man?"

"Yeah, Sammy. I'm fine. I'm gonna be just fine, relax Bro," Dean comforted his brother.

"Dean, do you remember what happened?" Sam asked softly. "Dad died. He died, Dean. There was nothing I could do about it." Sam's words were tight and dry. The words stung Dean's ears.

"I know, Sammy." Dean closed his eyes. He couldn't look at Sam right now. He had to be the strong one, strong for Sammy.

"He asked me to stop fighting with him and get him a cup of caffeine." Dean could feel the pain in Sam's voice. "What did he say to you, Dean? You know, when I left the room." Sam let go of Dean's hand. Dean ached from the lack of warmth.

"He told me that he was proud of me. That he had made me grow up too fast. God, Sam, I could barely believe it was him talking." Dean's voice choked with emotion. "He told me that he loved me." A single tear trailed down his face as he closed his eyes. He couldn't bear to look at Sam right now. "He told me to tell you that he loved you, too."

"He knew this was going to happen!" Sam cried. Dean heard him stand and knock the chair to the floor. Dean flinched at the crash and opened his eyes. Sam looked completely wrecked.

"Sammy, look at me," Dean yelled. Sam was pacing frantically in front of the small window. "Sam! I need you to come and sit back down." Dean swallowed hard. "Sammy, I need you."

That got his brother's attention. Sam angrily wiped hidden tears from his eyes, righted the chair and sat back down by his brother's chair. "What now, Dean. Where do we go from here?"

"We get out of here and figure this thing out." Dean soothed. "Dad knew something that he didn't tell us. He told me that you were the one, Sammy. That it all ends with you."

Sam snorted in disgust. "Dad was half crazy, you know." Sam's face crumpled in grief.

Dean reached over to grab his arm. "It's going to be okay. We'll figure this out." He watched Sam fight to control his emotions. "You need to get me some clothes and we'll split."

"No, Dean. You are going to stay here until you are stronger. We've got no where to go and nothing to go nowhere in." Sam muttered. "I won't take a chance with you, Dude. Not anymore."

"Okay, Sammy." Dean closed his eyes. He had to get stronger. He had to protect his brother from all things. He had promised.

The End

So what do you think? What do you think John told Dean?

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