Hospitals had never been Dean's most favorite place in the whole entire world. His dad had died in a hospital, trying to save his life, and Sam had made more trips to hospital than he could count, and that wasn't to mention all of the times that he had been in the hospital severely injured or close to death. But this time, sitting in this sterile hospital, the waiting was almost killing him. His brother sat to the side of him, knee bobbing up and down in a frantic rhythm while he held is wife, Jessica, tightly to his side, and every once and a while a stray tear would come down her cheek, but for the most part she kept that locked inside, and allowed whatever comfort his brother was able to provide flow thorough her body and keep her strong.

They called him an hour ago, told him that their daughter, his niece, had fallen and hit her head on the concrete that framed the in ground pool and fallen into the water. Jessica saw it from the kitchen window, and rushed out and got her out of the water, but the damage had been done. Little Samara was in the hospital, she was unconscious when the paramedics got there, that was all Sam said. Now, they were waiting for a doctor to come out and tell them what was going to happen.

"Dr. and Mr. Winchester?" A man asked as he came out of the emergency room doors. Jessica stood up quickly.

"Yes, that's us." She said and wiped her wet hands on her jeans. Sam stood beside her and ran his hands up and down her arms, trying to provide comfort. Dean stood up as well, didn't get into their circle. The family was close, but he didn't belong right there with his brother and sister-in-law.

"Samara, has suffered brain trauma. We won't know how bad it is until the swelling goes down."

"How bad it is?" Sam questioned.

"He's talking brain damage."

"Brain damage? No, there has to be some sort of mistake."

"Mr. Winchester, right now that is an option, she may not even wake up." Dean's back stiffened.

"That can't be right." Dean mumbled. "Samara is a healthy five year old." Dean mumbled and stepped back.

"Only time will tell. The next 24 hours will be the most crucial, but you know that Dr, Winchester." Jessica's head bobbed up and down in agreement, she knew, she'd been through medical school, she was a doctor, she had her own practice, of course she knew what this meant. It meant, more than likely, her daughter would either have brain damage or die. And right at that second she wished that she didn't know, wished that she could be like any other mother and be able to hope that this wouldn't happen.

"Jess?" Sam asked as the doctor disappeared, telling them that they could go see their daughter.

"It doesn't' look good Sam."

"You are just going to give up on her?" Jessica didn't respond. "Jessica?" He demanded.

"No. I'm not giving up on her Sam. I just know how I works. I know the odds. They aren't good sweetie." She said and touched Sam's face. Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"I'm not going to give up hope. My little girl will get up and leave this god forsaken place. She's a Winchester, she's strong." Sam walked away down the hall, presumably to his daughter's room. Jessica turned and looked at Dean, her face a mask of pain, and tears flowing down her beautiful skin.

"I don't know what to do Dean."

"The doctor said she might be okay."

"It's a small chance Dean. Small chance. If she doesn't wake up in the next 24 hours it might be permanent. I can't live with my baby gone."

"Miracles do happen." Dean said and moved in to hug her. Jessica gave a harsh laugh.

"You of all people Dean Winchester know better than to believe in miracles." She was right, yet he still wasn't willing to give up that hope.


Hours drug by, no word, no change, Sam and Jessica in her room every second, and Dean in the waiting room wishing that there was something he could do, wishing that there was some way he could help his niece.

When she was born into their world five years ago, it was like God was finally giving the Winchesters something rather than taking it away. She was beautiful, smart, and so funny. She looked like Jessica and had Sam's eyes. Dean didn't see any of himself in the child, just saw the ones he loved. The truly wonderful thing about Samara was that she loved Dean just as much as he loved her.

He came back to Sam and Jessica's now in between hunts, when he needed time to recuperate, to just take a break. And the last year or two, Samara would stand at the door and the moment she heard the Impala she would run outside and jump up and down until he got out of the car and scooped her up. He loved hugging on his niece, loved having her sit in his lap at dinner time, loved listening to her babble on and on and on about whatever was going on, or whatever she thought was going on. The thought of her not being there anymore weighed heavily on his heart. He prayed. He hoped. He waited.


Sam came out to the waiting room, beard half grown in, and eyes tired, and sat down next to his brother.

"you been out here all this time?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. Wanted to be here if you had any news."

"She's not going to make it." Dean's stomach sank.


"I know she's not going to make it. It's been almost two days and the swelling has gotten worse, they are going to go in and try to fix it, but it'll just fill back up. Her brain is dying Dean. Even if we do save her life, she won't be Samara. She'll just be the shell of my child. What do we do? You're my big brother. Tell me what to do."

"Wait and hope." Dean said softly. Sam slumped down farther, making his 6'4 frame look smaller and more fragile. Dean began wracking his brain, if the doctors couldn't do anything productive and save his niece. By God he would.