The world seemed to crash around Dean. It seemed hours before a nurse informed them that Sam had been shifted to the ICU. The corridor down which they were being led seemed endless. Finally arriving at a set of double doors, Dean didn't know if he wanted to go in. The double doors seemed so final. A nudge from Bobby jolted Dean and soon he couldn't wait to get inside and see his brother. The nurse, a short blond girl barely Sam's age, by the name of Hope, stopped him.
"Your brother?" She smiled at the slow nod.
"I have to warn you, there is a tube down his throat to help him breath. A monitor to maintain his heart rate and a machine to ensure his heart doesn't stop for long. His face is covered with bruises and there is a padding of gauze around his ribs. Try not to jostle him since his ribs are broken but due to the collapsed lung we are not able to tape it as tightly as they should be."
Feeling Dean tremble under her hand she added, "Talk to him. You look like someone he would listen to." With another grim smile she opened the set of doors.
Even Bobby's breath hitched. Every inch of Sam's scrawny body seemed to be covered with either bandages of wires with the exception of his now clean and very pale right arm. The amount of weight that the boy lost was obvious. He probably weighed less than he did when he was a baby. Finding Dean staring at his brother, Bobby pushed a chair near Dean and left the siblings alone.
Heading out to the hospital to catch his breath and say a prayer to the heavens and a curse to fate, he decided to take matters in his own hand. Calling John once again, he was not surprised to receive his voicemail again.
"John…ya idjit. How many times are you gonna try for the worst father award huh? Your son is dying and you're the only one left who even has the chance to save him and you refuse to even acknowledge it? This is not the time to think of pride man. Get here fast before your son breathes his last. He deserves at least that from you…no matter how much you pretend to hate him. He…" Bobby's voice broke and he couldn't keep the tears at bay any longer. "He's dying John! Your son is dying and if you don't save him you're gonna lose both yours sons John. We're at St. Michael's in Stanford under the name of Pitman. The doc has given us twenty four hours. I won't call again."
He slammed the phone down in anger, strode to the parked impala and stopped short. Looking at the bloodstained interior, he made up his mind. Dean didn't need a reminder. Calling Rufus he asked him to bring a strong cleaning agent and went back inside – confident that the next time he came out, the impala would be restored to its original state…even though the family might not be.
At first Dean didn't know what to say. For what seemed like hours he just sat there staring at his brother, afraid to touch him.
How could I have let this happen to him? He was supposed to be my responsibility…not that he made it easy for me but…he never wanted to stop hunting. It was my stupidity that stopped him from depending on me and looking up to me for help.
He used to need help for the littlest things, from brushing his teeth to opening his lucky charms, and he always looked up to his big brother for help.
"Big brother never used to screw up like this, did he Sammy?" He laughed cynically, and then settled to brushing Sam's lank hair away from his pale, cold forehead. After that talking seemed to come easily.
"You know, I still remember the day mom and dad told me about you. They said Im going to get someone to play with. Right up until the day Mom went to the hospital, I wouldn't believe mom and dad that I was getting a little brother. I was expecting a little golden puppy." Dean laughed grimly at the memory.
"But the minute they put you on my lap…I knew what I had to do. It was my job to keep you safe and happy Sammy! And I couldn't ask for anything more…even though you were a little pain in the ass.
I guess that's why I lashed out at you when you wanted to leave. I guess I wasn't thinking clearly and I saw it as a betrayal…but now I know you never meant to leave me." Dean stopped as Bobby entered the room again.
"Hey Dean…why don't you go wash up." Bobby said, eyeing Dean's still bloody shirt.
"Do it for your brother Dean, you don't want Sam to wake up and look at you all bloody. He's going to freak out and that's not good for him." Bobby said, his voice a tad harsh.
Dean's jaw clenched. "Bobby, the doctors don't even think he will wake-"
"Well, the doctors know how stubborn you Winchesters are….and Dean you need to have a little faith in your brother right now. It's the least you can do for him."
Dean jumped out of his seat, his eyes blazing. "Hey! I have plenty faith in him. I'm just trying to be realistic."
"The Dean I know would never get stupid pessimistic reality to get in between him and his brother. Hell, he would be pushing his brother to wake up right now." Bobby yelled, his hand fisted into the front of Dean's shirt.
Just like that Dean's eyes glazed and his body deflated. Bobby let go and Dean collapsed onto the chair, head in his hands.
"Oh God! You're right Bobby!" His eyes welling, Dean looked up at Bobby, utterly defeated.
"How do I fix this? I am supposed to be taking care of Sam. Sam always used to come through when I needed him. Now, he isn't even willing to fight for his own life. Bobby, what do I do?"
Bobby shook his head, and let his gaze slide from the desperate tear-filled eyes and onto the bed where the youngest Winchester lay wrapped up in wires, looking pale and gaunt. It unnerved him to see the boy so still, when usually he would be in perpetual motion.
Not being able to choke out an answer from the lump in his throat, Bobby stormed out to the nearby chapel and yelled and screamed at the tender eyes that held no answers for him there.
The next day, showed some improvement as the blood work from Chicago helped Sam stabilize enough for the surgeons to once again do their good work and a multiple times after that as Sam's physical conditions greatly improved.
He still, however, was caught in his own mind and was mentally broken, so he simply refused to wake up and try and recover. A multitude of infections came and went and the doctors pronounced his prognosis worsen with each passing infection.
A recent secondary bout of pneumonia had left Sam on life support and the doctors were kind enough to not pressure the family into considering other options until their father was able to come and say his goodbyes.
Dean and Bobby however, did not lose hope and would let their throats run dry, sometimes talking to Sam about good times in their childhood and making jokes, sometimes pleading for him to fight, sometimes angry at him and lashing out that he needed to fight and sometimes, apologizing.
The talking however did help in the doctors telling the family that there was a higher chance of Sam waking up since the conversations might be able to nudge him in the right direction. With rising hopes, Bobby and Dean took vigil hoping for the slightest twitch from Sam.
A week later the phone calls began from Caleb, Joshua and Pastor Jim…none from dad. It took them just four days to get to Palo Alto and then the rotations started. Every night, one person would go back to the motel to get a night's rest and get everyone else their necessities, while the others kept watch either by Sam's bed or outside in the waiting room.
None of the hospital staff were able to persuade them to move and finally Kaitlin had let Sam be moved to a bigger room and had brought into two extra cots all the while cursing herself for getting too attached to her patient.
Mrs. Sinclair was soon informed of Sam's condition, and she would come sit in for a few hours every day. Dean had told her most of what was going on, leaving out all the gory details, so Mrs. Sinclair would sit by Sam and placate him with the promise of his favourite dishes and reminders of Jessica hoping to pull him out of the coma.
Six weeks had passed with no change unless Dean was talking to him.
Caleb and Dean had first noticed it while Dean was getting ready to leave for a shower and Caleb had walked in to take his shift beside Sam;s bed.
"Alright Sammy! I am going to be right back from the shower. You smell enough for the both of us." Dean chuckled and turned around to talk to Caleb when he noticed Caleb staring at Sam's face.
"Caleb what's wrong?"
Caleb turned back to Dean, "Dude, whatever you said to Sam right now…say that again."
Dean turned around to fulfill the same request, when he noticed the slight wrinkling in Sam's forehead when Dean called him Sammy.
Caleb whopped in joy as he bounded into the corridor to inform the others. That happy day marked the occasion of Sam being able to breath with just a chest tube and was taken out of life support.
Since then, the guys had let Dean talk more and more to Sam, and had noticed Sam's response to Dean's voice getting stronger with each week.
On the seventh week, the surgeons had decided to schedule a final surgery to fix Sam's broken hand. After Sam was wheeled back into the room, none of the guys seemed to want to leave the room and so they had decided to celebrate Sam's last surgery.
They failed to notice the presence outside the room.
A/N: Hey guys, I know its been a real long time. Sorry….life happened. Anyway, I am trying to speed up the process but rest assured, the story will be completed.
Reviews are love!