Title: A Loss of Faith

Disclaimer: Winchesters are way to fun to play with. So I steal em when I can.

Summary: Just a quick missing scene from Faith. Dean's thoughts while he's in the hospital.

All feedback is love.

Dying sucked.

He'd expected that when he finally stared his end in the face that he would be met by some epiphany, the meaning of life or some shit.

But when the doctor entered his hospital room, bringing with him that air of medical detachment, and told him his heart was damaged beyond repair and basically he was screwed.…really all he wound up with was 'dying sucked.'


They told him he would have a few weeks at best, but a few days was more likely, which in medical speak basically translated to 'if you don't faceplant in your afternoon jello we'll be surprised.'

You'd have thought he'd would have known better, how the whole electricity and water thing was a bad mix. He'd been treated to that rule when he was 17, eagerly fucking Tiffany or Tonya or whatever her name was in the bathtub like it was some kind of new water sport. She'd nearly tore him a new one when in his eagerness he'd accidentally bumped the small radio she'd placed on the nearby table, saying was he nuts and did he want to kill them both?

Apparently he did seeing as how he'd thrown all common sense and every ounce of intelligence out the window when he'd squeezed the trigger on the tazer while sitting in a g-ddamn puddle.

Sam was gonna be pissed.

He shifted slowly, feeling the pull of singed tissue and damaged muscle. Every part of him hurt more than he thought possible, but the worst was his chest which felt like someone beat the crap out of him with a sledgehammer.

Or 100,000 volts.

He didn't really want to die. Always known he would, and that it would be at an early age. There was just too much shit they faced in their line of work, too many psychotic spirits and things with claws and fangs that were way too eager to tear into soft flesh. But he didn't really think it would go like this…taken out by his own stupidity.

Kinda sucked if you asked him.

The nurse was back. She was pretty in a dull, bookish way that he never really went for but was right up his brother's alley. She checked his IV's, made notes in his chart, asked him if he needed anything.

Yeah. He needed not to be dying.

Cause really, dying sucked.