Finally, the ending!
 Whatever You Do, Don't Panic 
It's two days later and John's promise of not being any longer than that is well close to expiring. But Sam can't begin to care about that as he sits on the edge of Dean's bed. His brother's eyes are clear and focused, a spark of life taking over the dullness that had resided there since his admittance to the hospital. Sam notices the tight grip that Dean has around his wrist and feels the strength that has returned to him. Dean's brows are creased in irritation as he stares at Sam -his restrained hand making grabbing motions for the tube.
"It can't come out yet" Sam chides out for what feels like the hundredth time in the past fifteen minutes.
He feels his brother's grip tighten around his wrist, pinching in all the wrong places, as he watches Dean's face contort into what Sam would easily categorize as the highest class of annoyance. But the stubborn and pig-headed don't give up that easy and Dean continues to try and break the restraint as he reaches for the tube.
"Damn it, Dean" Sam sighs under his breath before firmly grabbing his brothers straining arm and pinning it to the bed. "It can't. Come out yet" He repeats slowly. Almost harshly. As if trying to get the point across to his headstrong brother. But all he's rewarded with is an irritated eye roll as Dean turns his glance to a blank wall and looks as if he's trying to keep his emotions in check. Sam can see the twitching in Dean's jaw as the annoyed expression diminishes from his brothers face only to be left with a kind of empty sadness and hurt.
Sam exhales slowly, guilt taking over him, as he loosens his hold on his brother's arm. "Look Dean, I'm sorry. But the doctors are only doing whats best for you…you almost died Dean"
Dean looks towards Sam with a doubtful glance, and it's in that moment that Sam can picture that words coming from his mouth "Me. Die? I'm Dean-fucking-Winchester. As if"
But as much as his stubborn, ass of a big brother wants to believe it, he's not invincible "Your body just needs some time to recuperate. They'll take the tube out soon Dean. I promise"
Instantly Sam can tell that those aren't the words that Dean wants to hear as a scowl takes over his features again and he turns his glance back to the wall. Sam gently strokes his hand down Dean's forearm before Dean flicks it off in aggravation. Sam's troubled that Dean's now mad at him but he notices that at least his brother doesn't seem to be making any attempts to pull the breathing tube out.
It isn't until later that night that the doctor returns to tell Sam and Dean that they plan to get Dean off of the ventilator the next morning. Finally, Sam thinks. Some news that will make his brother happy. But Dean wants the tube out now, and he's still not left in good spirits as he glares at the doctor walking away.
Sam lets his head fall into his hands as a long sigh escapes his lips "Dean, you are not making anything easy" he complains more so to himself. But Dean hears and Sam swears he sees his brothers face give a quick smirk.
"Alright" Sam says as he gets up, grabs the television's remote, and flops back into the chair beside Dean's bed "one more night until your potential freedom. Dear god, let's make it go quick" he declares in an exasperated moan before flicking through the channels. He notices Dean waving his hand in a sideways motions, "go back?" he questions. Dean nods his head as Sam starts slowly flicking backwards through the channels. Dean taps his arm then, on channel 04. "Stop here?" Sam questions. Dean nods again, and makes the 'ok' signal with his hand. Sam shrugs as he sets the flicker on the side table, brings his ankle up and rests it on his knee as he slouches back to watch the tv.
"Really Dean? The Exorcist?" Sam remarks with raised eyebrows. His brother just shrugs at him as both boys turn to watch the tv.
It's a couple days later and John has just drove through the night to get back to the hospital. He can see the visible change in his son's awareness level. His eyes freely look around, head turning to listen to conversations and noises in the hall. His body is still slouched against the pillows, but John's confident knowing that if they were to be moved, Dean at least wouldn't fall head over heels out of the bed. Which was clearly not the case a few days ago.
He'd just made it into the hospital early that morning to find out that the doctors were going to be extubating Dean.
John notices the way Dean's eyes narrow into slits as the doctor moves around the room. Watches as his son's tight eyes follow the doctor's movement like a hunter stalking it's prey.
He moves closer, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Easy" he lets out quietly. Only for his son's ears.
And the slight eye roll and attempted huff of indignation are all it takes to let John know that his opinions aren't welcome here. Not today.
Strangely enough a small smirk makes it's way across John's face as he realizes that in that minute, this is the Dean he remembers. This is the Dean that's not giving up, and this is the Dean that's going to be okay.
Not the doped up, helpless, stare-into-space Dean that has been replacing his son since he arrived at the hospital.
This Dean is fighting.
Sam is standing nervously on the other side of Dean, just behind a nurse, as he watches everyone get prepared for the procedure.
"Alright Dean" the doctor says as he snaps on a glove and moves towards the bed "This is just going to take a second, Bud"
Dean's eyes tighten in challenge as the doctor gets closer. "Relax" John soothes slowly as he roughly rubs Dean's shoulder.
The nurse moves closer with the suctioning hose and Dean immediately tries to turn his head away. But she's quick as she unsnaps the ventilator from the tube, and threads the hose into the breathing tube. John catches a hand before Dean can push her away, and feels Dean's tight grip squeezing back against him. As soon as she's finished the doctor pulls the tape from Dean's cheeks.
"Take a deep breath in Dean" the doctor instructs. "Good, now on three I want you to blow out as hard as you can"
John feels Dean's hand squeeze his again as the doctor counts down, and before he knows it Deans coughing and gagging as the tube is pulled from his throat. Saliva drips down Dean's chin as he continues to gag. After a couple of minutes the coughing has subsided and an oxygen mask is placed on Dean's face before the nurse and doctor leave the room.
Dean is still trying to get a handle on his breathing as he looks towards his younger brother, standing their scared and shell shocked. Not being able to talk he motions for Sam to come closer. When he's within reaching distance Dean grabs a fistful of his brother's shirt, just below the neck, squeezing hard and pulling Sam closer to him. The movement is almost aggressive, and done with urgency as Sam's brows knit together and he turns his head slightly waiting for whatever Dean's going to say.
It takes a minute before Dean begins to talk. A huff escaping his lips before he even starts. "Dude!" he grates out, voice rough and husky, face chiselled in annoyance "She's not...even hot."
Dean's sleeping when it happens. Sam should be too, but the lumpy cot has taken it's toll on his body, as he lays staring at the pale painted walls. It starts with the gruff 'hello' and a chain of disinterested one word answers, but quickly spirals into the one hundred questions game.
Sam can't believe it.
Doesn't want to believe it as he rolls over on the cot staring his dad straight in the face. "You're leaving" he says accusingly -a statement rather then a question. Because Sam already knows the answer.
"Keep your voice down" John calmly says back as his eyes glance to a sleeping Dean and then back to the paper that he's been scribbling on, cell phone still tucked neatly against his cheek, shrugging Sam off and returning to his conversation.
"Dad" Sam protests. Louder this time. Makes him look.
"Knock it off" His dad answers threateningly. A severe glance finding Sam's eyes "Your brothers sleeping"
That look used to work. Used to make Sam fidget on the spot as his mouth snapped shut, not daring to disobey his father. But times have changes and Sam's older now. That look hasn't worked on him in years -and it's not going to start now.
"Dad. Dean is just getting better. You can't be serious right now"
"I said knock it the hell off Sam"
Sam waits for the phone call to end as he glares at his father. He watches as his dad gets up and packs his belongings into his waiting duffel bag.
"Give this to Dean when he wakes up" His dad says as he drops some papers onto the table, before hoisting his bag across his shoulders and heading for the exit.
Sam gets up and crosses to the table, looking down at the papers. A map. Some Scribbled Notes. And Coordinates.
It never ends.
I apologize for the wait, and half assed ending to this story. I just lost my mojo for it...I have been wanting to start something else...but haven't been able to start something with this one looming over my head.
But alas, it's finished and I can move onto my next angsty, hurt, whump story :P I hope you will check it out when it's posted? :)
Leave me a review for this one please? It would make my day...and give me motivation for a new story...which I'm not totally sure where I'm going with but I'm thinking either some SickDean, or HurtSam...eventually I will write both, but I must pick one to start with XD