Summary: What if John had answered to Sam's message after Dean got electrocuted?
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.
Sam had been asleep for a few hours when he was woken up and his sleep-fogged mind enabled him to locate the source of his awakening for a few moments until a movement beside him brought his attention to the other occupant in the bed. Dean was shivering, almost violently, the bed sheets clutched in his hand as he tried to warm he body in a fruitless attempt. Sam quickly yet quietly removed the sheets from around himself and got out from the bed before walking to the end of the bed where he had threw his duffel yesterday and proceeded to pull his black zip-up from inside before making his way around to Dean's side of the bed,
"Dean, come on you need to wake up for a minute" Sam whispered into the darkened room as he gently shook Dean's shoulder, watching as his eyes slowly opened to reveal two slits of glassy green,
"Sammy?" Dean's voice came out a slurred and cracked whisper as his mind tried to comprehend as to why Sam had woken him up in the middle of the night,
"Hey man, sorry, but I need you to sit up for a minute and then you can go back to sleep, okay?" Sam said as he carefully eased Dean into an upright position; he watched as Dean gave a violent shudder when the blanket fell from his shoulders and pooled in his lap. Sam carefully pulled each of Dean's arms into the jacket; Dean tried to help but it seemed that his limbs were still asleep and did not want to co-operate. When Sam had the jacket on and zipped up Dean carefully lay back down with his head resting against the pillows as if he had never moved, asleep before Sam had made it back to the other side and slide back into the covers, glad that Dean's frame, although still shivering, had decreased and he seemed more comfortable.
Sam settled into a dreamless sleep both anxiously and excited about the next day, the day that could undeniably seal Dean's fate.
The next morning was a mixture of nervous tension and excitement at what they would find at this specialist. John had woken early and had showered and packed his duffel and the weapons before he woke up Sam and Dean. After both the boys had gotten showered and dressed; Dean now wearing the jacket that Sam had given him last night under his black jacket and a pair of dark blue jeans that hung miserably on his too thin frame, before they packed away their own meager belongings and checked out of the motel at around 8:30am.
All three Winchester men had decided that they would skip breakfast so that they could get a head start on today; John had told them that the drive to the specialist would take a few hours as it was situated a little outside of town, in the countryside. Secretly Sam was glad that they had decided to skip breakfast; his stomach was fluttering in nervous anticipation of what could happen today…but he also reminded himself not to get his hopes up too high because they could also be knocked down. Dean was also glad; his appetite had vanished completely and his famished body was physical proof to the effects that it was having on him but he silently hoped that the mighty John Winchester would prevail once again and would find a way to sort this mess out; he was sick of the pains and aches that tormented his body, the pills that would take a small bit of the ache away for a while at the price of leaving him feeling more nauseous than before he took them, and the pitying looks that he would get from strangers, but mostly he hated the pitying looks and helpful 'kiddies gloves' that Sammy and his Dad had resorted to using with him.
John climbed into the driver's seat of the Impala and gunned the engine. Sam sat in the front worrying his nails before John pulled his hand away from his mouth and gave a look that clearly told him to 'get a grip' before taking a deep breath to calm himself down. Dean sat in the back of the Impala resting against the right side door, his head resting against the cool glass, feeling the vibrations from the rough ground reverberate throughout his body, letting it lull him into an almost hypnotic state of mind making the trip seem like it had taken only two minutes instead of the actual two and a half hours.
"We're here" John announced before opening the car door and climbing out into the frigid and rain streaked air of the Nebraskan countryside. Sam quickly followed suit and watched for a moment as Dean oriented his sleepy brain to get out of the car before going to his aid and taking hold of one of his arms which Dean quickly pushed away as he glanced around the area.
There were many people flocking into a huge tent; many had crutches and wheelchairs, many being held up by the help of a family member or friend as they walked towards a way of help. Dean looked disgustedly at the sign above the tent;
'Welcomes All Faiths – The Believers Revival'
– His Dad brought him to a fucking faith healer!
Dean couldn't believe it, and was unable to stop the comment that flew from his lips,
"Lying bastard" and upon seeing the stern look on Johns face realized that he had heard him, and from the shocked and awed expression that Sam wore he guessed he heard him too.
"Don't cuss at me boy" John said as he walked around the car to where Sam and Dean where standing,
"Sorry Sir" Dean said, glancing over at the tent again,
"And anyway I believe I said a specialist" John said in a slightly humorous tone, showing his boys that they still couldn't get one over on their old man.
The three Winchesters began their walk towards the tent passing by several people protesting against the 'Reverend' and several people defending him and his work. There was a man dressed in quite formal attire handing leaflets to passers by, telling them that the work of the Reverend was a lie before he was escorted away by two police officers. John, Sam and Dean walked into the welcoming warmth of the tent; it was packed full of people, all seeking answers and guidance, hoping that their prayers would be answered today. Dean scanned a cautious glance around the tent; habit etched into his fiber throughout his lifetime. As his eyes fell upon a security camera at the entrance of the tent he nudged Sam's arm to gain his attention,
"Yeah, peace and love all around here" he muttered in a sarcastic tone, as they followed behind John. Dean spotted three empty seats at the back of the tent and attempted to sit down when Sam grabbed him around his arm,
"What, sit here" he said as Sam pulled him from his semi-sitting position so that he was standing again and once more following John,
"No, we're sitting at the front" Sam said, removing his hand as Dean shoved his hand away, although he kept his hand over Dean's back in the case that his step should falter.
John walked up to another set of free seats about four rows back from the front at the right hand side of the tent. John quickly took his seat, followed by Sam who tried to help Dean into his seat but he got his hands brushed off and a grunt as a 'Thank You'.
A few moments later the tent was full of people waiting anxiously as a short, heavyset man in his early fifties, who was wearing a white shirt and tie walked onto the small stage at the front accompanied by a woman of the same age who was slightly smaller and had very light blonde hair that was tied up. The thing that caught Dean's attention though was that the man was wearing dark sunglasses; he was obviously blind.
The Reverend walked over and stood behind his podium where he preached about how every morning his wife would read him the paper and nothing seemed good nowadays, and how although he was struck blind he was given the opportunity to see into people's hearts and to share his gift- and naturally Dean could not stop the retort that flew from his mouth on his exhale of air,
"Yeah, and into their wallets…" he muttered quietly to Sam, although not quietly enough,
"What was that young man?" Reverend Roy said with a hint of humor in his words,
"Sorry" Dean said clear enough to be heard, chastised at being caught,
"That okay son; gotta be careful what ya say around the blind – we got real sharp ears" Roy said with a small laugh, "What's your name son?" Roy asked after a moments pause,
Dean cleared his throat before answering, "Uh, Dean" he replied, somehow feeling that it would be wrong to lie to a Reverend – even if he thought he wasn't a real one,
"Well Dean, why don't you come up here?" Roy asked and people in the tent started to clap; Sam grabbed Dean's arm and gave it an excited squeeze,
"I…" Dean started shaking his head, "you should pick somebody else"
"I didn't pick you Dean, the Lord did" Roy said, still waiting for the young man to join him on the small stage. People were still clapping and Dean glanced at Sam and John, saw the hope and want radiating in their eyes and faces – he knew that he could at least go up and see what happened. Dean stiffly pushed himself out of his seat and walked up to the stage, Sue-Anne helping him before going and standing off to the side.
Dean stood beside the Roy and spoke quietly to the older man,
"Ya' know, I'm not exactly a believer" Dean said as he glanced at Roy and say a small smile on the man's lips,
"That's okay…that's okay" he said before speaking to the crowd once again, "Pray with me", Dean watched as the room lifted their arms in the air and joined hands with each other, some people praying quietly into their chests, as others looked on, waiting to see a miracle take place. Roy extended his arms into the air, his left hand raised towards the heavens as his right hand was placed on Dean's shoulder before sliding up to the side of his head where he kept the contact,
"Alright, alright now" Roy said and Dean was starting to wonder what was supposed to happen when suddenly all of his thoughts where banished by a thickening haze, his body being filled with an overwhelming coldness- ten times worse than what he had been feeling the previous weeks. Dean swallowed thickly against the lump in his throat as he felt an oppressing weakness take over his mind, body and soul alike. He felt as his legs refused to hold him any longer and he sank slowly to his knees – Roy's' hand still keeping contact as his head lolled backwards, his body finally succumbing to the fight as his body pitched forwards before finally falling back towards the ground, his arm flying out in a last ditch attempt to keep his body upright before it connected with the solid ground, his ears not hearing the sound of his name being called, or the increased intensity of the cheers as his world turned black.
Sam watched as his brother fell to the ground; his heart leap to his throat and his lungs ceased to bring any air into his body. He jumped out of his seat and ran to the front, oblivious to the crowd around him as he ran and grabbed Dean's limp body, shaking at him hoping to get a reaction; letting out the breath he had been holding as Dean gasped in for air.
Dean eyes shot open as he breathed as if for the first time; his lungs burning as they were filled with the precious air. His eyes blinked owlishly as he looked around himself; he cast a glance at the Revered and was shocked when he saw a figure standing behind him; an old man wearing a suit, his skin wrinkled and his skin a deathly pallor; Dean wondered who the man was when he turned around and suddenly vanished into thin air.
Dean could hear a voice getting louder…it was calling his name…it took him a few moments of disorientation to realize that it was Sam, and that his hand was holding a fistful of Dean's jacket and shaking him slightly,
"Dean? Dean?" Sam's voice was filled with worry and concern, with a slight undercurrent of hopeful apprehension,
"Yeah; Sam?" Dean's voice was a strained whisper and he had to cough a few times to clear his throat.
"Are you okay? Do you feel any different?" Sam asked, itching to know if this trip was worth all the heartache. Dean started to push himself up but had to stop when he had only managed to get to a sitting position because the world started to spin slightly, before speaking,
"I'm fine Sam, just a little dizzy," Dean answered in a slightly stronger voice before pushing himself the rest of the way to his feet now that the world decided to stop playing on the merry-go-round and was once again still, "I would appreciate it if we could get the hell outta here, I'm freezing my ass off here" Dean said as he got off of the small stage and stood beside Sam and his father. Most of the people in the tent were leaving and Dean noticed that Roy had left also; only one 'healing' a day, Dean thought distractedly.
"Are you sure you're okay son?" John asked in a tone of voice telling Dean that he better not shit him and give him the truth – well a half truth anyway.
"Yeah, just a little weak is all; I just need to lie down for a while" Dean said, hoping that Sam would stop shooting him cornered and worried glances.
"We're gonna get you checked out at the hospital and then head back to the hotel, okay boys" John told them in his best John Winchester Military Voice, as if he was addressing them about the latest hunt and not the health of one of his sons.
The ride to the hospital had been made in the same atmosphere as when they traveled to the Revered, although a little less fear had been replaced by apprehension. Dean now sat in one of the exam rooms of yet another hospital; one too many in his life if you asked him, waiting for the doctor to come back with the results of his tests. He sat on a bed in the centre of the room with his legs hanging off of the side of the bed, Sam stood at the end of the bed, casting glances at Dean every so often – Dean paying no attention; he felt better but he was still tired and a different kind of cold had invaded his body – it was wrong and sat like a boulder at the pit of his stomach. Finally John stood close to the window, his arms crossed across his chest and his poker face firmly in place. Finally a female doctor of medium height with dark brown hair in her late thirties came into the room and walked over to where Dean was sitting, making him sit up straighter as he listened as she began to speak,
"I received the results of your tests Mr. Jones and am pleased to say that they all came back normal; not that there is any reason for a young man to be having heart trouble, but it happens" She said as she signed 'Mr. Thomas Jones' chart. John who had came to stand closer to the bed spoke in a curious tone,
"What do you mean, doc?" John watched the doctors face carefully as she spoke,
"Well, not too long ago a young man, about your age came in, suffered an M.I" John nodded his head to the doctor before she left the room.
A few hours later the Winchester's were back in their motel room; they had just finished their dinner of burgers and fries – this time Dean was able to nibble at a few fries without feeling nauseated – his appetite was small but after a few weeks of eating virtually nothing and having a second showing of what he could force into his stomach it was a feast for his stomach and left him feeling satisfied and sleepy; gratefully not the fatigued tiredness that had overwhelmed him but a warm and safe feeling of tiredness that had his eyes sliding closed as soon as his head hit the pillow.
John stood at the room to the motel door with his duffel on his back looking across the room to where his two sons lay; Sam was laid on his back with his hands resting on his chest- he was always a conservative sleeper, even as a child. Dean was the opposite as he was lying on his side with his arm hanging off of the bed and the other underneath the pillow, a contented look on each of their faces. John took a few more moments to engrave the picture of his two sons looking so innocent before he quietly opened the door and walked into the crisp night air.
The next morning Sam woke up to see his brother sitting on the edge of the other, unoccupied bed in the room, looking down at something that was in his hands.
"Hey" Sam said to announce his presence, as he pushed himself into a sitting position with his feet of the floor,
"Hey Sammy" Dean said as he glanced over at Sam before silently passing the piece of paper that he had been looking at; an unreadable expression on his face. Sam accepted the note and read it carefully. It was a note. From John. He had left, once again, Sam thought bitterly.
Take some time to rest up, and I'll message you in a few days.
Take care, Deano, Sammy.
Sam glanced over at Dean, who had been staring at a particularly interesting spot on the floor,
"Are you okay?" Sam asked in a quiet voice, cautious of what Dean's reaction might be.
Dean glanced from the spot and looked at Sam with a small smile; not the mega-watt Dean Winchester Demon Hunter smile, but the smile that Dean only saved for the people he loved and wanted to keep safe no matter what,
"Yeah Sammy, I'm fine" Dean said, and for once, he was.
I decided that I should end the story there and just have it play out like the rest of the episode actually did cause I really like it.
I am working on a new story now but I want to have a few chapters posted before I put it up, so keep look out.