A/N: In loving memory of MTM, d. 9/27/07. Requiescat in pace
"Hey Sammy, what do you want to do tonight?"
"I'm sorry, man."
"Let's just order a pizza and stay in tonight."
"I was stupid."
"Why? I don't know, just want to hang around."
"I didn't listen."
"I just don't feel a hundred percent."
Six Hours Earlier
Dean walked into the motel room and tossed his bag on the bed. He looked over at Sam. "Hey, Sammy what do you want to do tonight?"
"I don't know," Sam said with a sigh. He was feeling a little antsy. Actually a lot antsy. "Want to go out and get a beer or something?" Like nearly every night, Dean? Maybe pick someone up while you're at it and leave me just sitting?
"Nah, let's just order a pizza and stay in tonight. There's a Robot Chicken marathon on," Dean said smiling at him.
Sam shrugged, "I don't know, I think I'd kind of like to go out."
"Ah, come on, Sam. We could get pizzas and beer and just sit on the bed and watch TV."
"Why? I don't know, just want to hang around."
"I don't really want to just hang around all night, Dean." I think I am being contrary just to be contrary. I don't think I actually want to go out.
"Ok, Sam," and Dean looked disappointed. "I just wanted to spend the evening watching TV with my pain in the ass little brother."
"Why? You always go out."
"I just don't feel a hundred percent, Sam. I think I got a little more bruised on that last hunt or something, I just feel like hanging out here."
"I think you should go out, Dean. You'll feel better. I bet that waitress is back tonight."
"You go, Sam. I'm going to watch TV." Dean smiled at him and handed him the car keys. "Don't be too late."
"I'll be back in a couple of hours."
"Sure, Sam, see you then." Dean had jumped down onto the bed the way he usually did and grabbed the phonebook. Sam heard him ordering pizza as he closed the door.
And I am a jerk. He got into the car and started it up. He's been a little more "big brother" since…since….since I died, but I do understand. He pulled out of the lot. I think I will just run to the store and get some beer and M&Ms and come back and watch TV with my pain in the ass big brother.
Sam drove around for about fifteen minutes, looking for a grocery store. He finally found one and got them some decent beer and peanut M&Ms. He also got two bags of chips and dip to go with them. He paid with cash and headed back to the motel. Thirty minutes. Pizza might not even be here yet. Good. It'll be a nice surprise. He opened the door to the room, the TV was turned to the Cartoon Network.
"Hey man, I'm back. I got beer and junk food." Sam looked around, the bathroom door was partially closed. "Ah, come on dude, don't be mad. I was a jerk." He walked over to the bathroom and knocked on the door. "Come on Dean. Junk food. Hey, Dean?" He pushed the door open. "Dean?"
His brother was lying on the floor, arms around his stomach, unmoving. There was blood on the floor. Sam dropped to his knees beside him. He felt for a pulse.
He rolled him over and started CPR. On the break for each breath he screamed for help. The count, the breath, the call for help and around again.
"What's going on?" Another voice.
"Call 911, my brother…" Breath, compressions, count, breath, compressions, count. Sirens in the distance. Breath, compressions, count. Hands pulling him away from Dean.
"Is he alive?" Sam asked no one.
"We're working on it."
They took Dean away.
Sam stumbled after them, to the Impala. Trying to follow the ambulance. Trying to get to Dean. He arrived at emergency, Dean was already back in one of the rooms. A hospital staff member shoved forms at him. They words didn't seem to make sense. He filled them out automatically, watching to doors, waiting for someone to come out and get him.
Finally someone approached. Sam stood. "Yes?"
"Your brother is alive."
"Can I seen him?"
"Yes, we've taken him up to ICU. The doctor will speak with you there."
They took him to Dean. His brother was unconscious, he was on a respirator. Sam sank down in the chair beside the bed. I hate hospitals. I hate them.
"Mr. Michaels?" A doctor had come into the room.
"My name is Sam. How is my brother?"
"You should sit down," the doctor pulled the other chair up.
No, don't say it, please don't say it. "What is it?"
"Your brother is in bad shape, a blood clot, it broke loose and moved…We've given him anti-coagulants, they might help, but it is a very small chance."
"But he's alive." Sam said holding onto that.
"He's alive because of the machines, Sam," the doctor said gently. "You need to make a decision."
"No, I can't," Sam said. His heart was starting to pound, his mouth was dry. NO NO NO NO NO
"It's ok, you can think about it for awhile. The machines won't keep him going forever, Sam. You should say goodbye."
Sam swallowed, and swallowed again. He bolted out of the room and into the bathroom down the hall. No. No he's supposed to have a year—at least a year. He flushed the toilet and walked back to Dean's room. The doctor nodded and left.
"Dean, this is not funny, you know. Jokes over, let's get out of here," he could feel tears at the edge of his eyes, threatening, but not falling. "You need to get up, dude. Don't make me do this." He sat down in the chair looking at his brother.
"I'm so sorry I left you Dean, I didn't realize, I should have, but I didn't. I'm so sorry." The tears were starting to fall. "It's not supposed to be this way, Dean. It's not." He took his brother's hand. "Is this what it was like for you? Oh, god, Dean, I'm sorry."
"Dean? Can I just hang out with you tonight?" Eleven year old Sam had asked his brother.
"Why, Sammy? What's up?" Dean had said with a grin.
"I don't know, just wanted to, you know?"
"Yeah, I know, Sammy. Sure. We'll get pizzas and watch TV, how's that?"
"That's great, Dean. Can I pick what we watch?"
"Sure, Sammy," and his brother had laughed and picked up the phone to order dinner.
"You wouldn't have left, Dean. You would have stayed if I said I just wanted to sit around the room. I'm sorry. You always gave me whatever I needed."
"Dean? Can I drive?" Sam said as they walked to the car.
"But come on, I just got my license, give me your keys."
"Nope, you don't get my keys, ever."
"Come on, Dean. Just give me your keys."
"Nope," his brother was laughing at him as the got to the car. There was a box on top of it, with a badly wrinkled ribbon tied around it.
"Well, open it," Dean was grinning at him. Sam opened the box, there was a set of keys inside. "You don't ever get my keys, Sammy. But you can have your own, now."
"Oh, god, Dean. What am I supposed to do? I can't lose you."
"The big decisions are always the hardest, Sammy."
"I want to go to Stanford, Dean. Dad doesn't want me to go."
"I know, he talked to me about it, too."
"He wanted you to tell me not to go, didn't he?" Sam said, angry.
"I told him I would support whatever choice you made, Sammy." His brother had looked at him, his eyes bright with tears. "But promise me, whatever choice you make, I won't lose you. I can't."
Someone was pulling him up out of the chair, pushing him out of the room. They closed the door. Long minutes went by, finally they came out again.
"We brought him back, he's actually breathing a little on his own, but…" the doctor looked at him. "I'm so sorry. It won't last."
Sam nodded and walked back into the room. His chest hurt. The tears wouldn't come. He looked down at Dean. "They said they're sorry, Dean. You know what that means? It means you're dead." He sat back in the chair. "Dead. I left you Dean, if I had been there I could have stopped this. I would have been there—if I couldn't have stopped it I could at least have been there."
And the tears came. Violent, a scream of anguish.
"I left you and this happened and you were alone, Dean. I left you alone and this happened. I know I left Jess and dad and they died, but Dean. You shouldn't have had to be alone. I am so sorry. I won't leave you now. I know it's too late, but I won't leave. I don't want you to have to be alone."
The tears ended, there were no more. There was nothing more. Nothing.
A nurse came in to check on his brother and left.
The doctor walked by, looking in the room, shaking his head.
"Dean, I can't do it, I can't."
"Dean, I'm sorry. I was stupid."
"I didn't listen."
Sam looked up. "Dean, no."
"No, Dean. I can't, I can't. I won't leave you alone. I'll be here."
A nurse running into the room. Trying to shove him away from Dean. "No. I can't leave him alone."
Trying to pull him away. Sam hanging on. "No. No." Pushing him out of the room. "No, Dean!"
The nurse turned around.
Sam broke loose from the orderly pulling him away. "Dean, come on, come back."
The doctor came into the room. Checked his brother, looked at Sam, shook his head and left. They all left. He was alone with Dean, listening to the sound of life. He sat down beside his brother and put his head down on the bed. The tears had started again. He cried himself out and fell asleep with his head on Dean's bed.
Light was coming in the window. Sam raised his head and looked at Dean. His brother was still breathing, still alive. He walked to the window and looked out at the sunrise.
Inhale, exhale, pause.
Sam turned from the window.
"Dean!" And he dropped on the bed and pulled his brother up into his arms.
"Sam? Hey, be careful."
"Sure, Dean, sorry," he let go, smiling at the look on Dean's face. I bet that is exactly the look that was on mine when he came in after…
"I'm sorry I left last night Dean," was it only last night? "It won't happen again."
"It's alright. Are you ok, Sam?"
Sam laughed, starting to cry again. "I am now, Dean. I am now."
"Sammy? What is it?" He could hear the concern for him in his brother's voice.
"Dean, man, they said…" He swallowed. "They said 'I'm so sorry'."
"What are you talking about?"
"They said you were dead, no hope."
Dean put his hand on Sam's leg. "I'm ok, Sam."
"You weren't, and I left you alone, I'm sorry." He scrubbed the tears off his face. He put his hand over Dean's.
The nurse came in and looked at them, sitting together, and left. A moment later the doctor came in. He examined Dean, flashed a light in his eyes. Muttered under his breath. Asked a series of questions, shook his head. Scheduled an MRI.
Sam walked with Dean to the MRI, he waited as the machine clicked and clacked examining his brother. He waited as they read the results, he sat beside Dean's bed while they waited for the doctor. Sam kept checking on Dean, refusing to leave even when his brother told him to get coffee. To eat.
"No, Dean," Not yet, I need to know. I won't leave you at all till I know. I don't want you to be alone.
The doctor finally came in. The clot was gone, dissipated with minimal damage. He said something about miracles. Dean muttered something about "that's me miracle boy" and the doctor left.
"Will you go get something for yourself, now Sam?" Dean said, looking at him with concern.
"Ok, but I will be right back. You won't be alone long."
"Sam?" Dean said softly. "It ok. I know I'm not alone, I know you're there."
Sam felt the tears in his eyes again. "Always, Dean. No matter what. I know you're there, too."
"Yeah Sam, always, no matter what."