A/N: Alright guys, I'll admit it… I'm gonna cheat. I tried a hundred different ways to get Shawn out of the hospital… None of them sounded good. So… I'm skipping that part. I'm a horrible person, I know… But I'll assume you would like me to continue, and I can't if I've gotta write that in. So. I cheat.
Also, personal little plug: You all should go and watch WakeUpAmerica89's videos on Youtube. As a personal favor to me. : )
Sam looked up at his father, as John quietly entered the room.
John nodded. "Yup. Bobby's gonna take him to Missouri for a while. Kid said he'll call once he's across state lines."
There was silence in the room for a few minutes, before Sam timidly spoke.
"Dad… is Dean… Is Dean gonna die?"
"No!" John's harsh voice shocked even himself, and he forced himself to moderate his tone. "No, he's not gonna die, Samuel. He's… He's gonna get better. He's gonna get through this, and everything's gonna be fine. I promise, alright?"
Sam nodded unsurely. "He's… I don't remember him. I mean, I guess I thought… I thought when I saw him again… I would know it was him. Like… Like a bond or repressed memories, or something. But I didn't. If I didn't know it was him… I could walk by him anywhere, and not even know my own brother," Sam said quietly. "Does that make me a bad person?"
John sighed as he kneeled in front of his youngest son. "No, Samuel. It doesn't. You were real young back then. I wouldn't expect you to remember. And Dean's grown up a lot. Hell… to be honest, Sam… I didn't recognize him either," John said softly.
"Hey! Wake up!"
Dean shook his head slowly, before sitting up.
"That's it, sleepy head, rise and shine!"
Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed, glancing around the room. His eyes went wide when he saw who was in the room with him.
"Dad? Sam? Dad!" Dean yelled, running to his father, and giving the sleeping man a hug. "Dad…?"
"Can't hear you, kid," Came the voice that had woken him in the first place. Dean glanced over by the door, and seen a tall, scraggly looking man standing there.
"What do you mean he can't hear me? What the hell is goin' on?" Dean demanded angrily, stomping over to the man. "Who the hell are you?"
The man chuckled under his breath, as he folded his arms around his chest. "I'm Zachary Hudson. Private 1st class, United States Marine Corp," He said sharply, snapping off a salute. "As for what's goin' on…" He pointed with his chin behind Dean.
Slowly –cautiously –Dean glanced behind him.
And promptly let out a yelp.
"Holy shit!" He cussed, looking back at Zachary. "What the hell is goin' on? Why am I over there?"
"You're dyin', kiddo. Gettin' ready to 'cross over'," The older man said, wiggling his fingers in mock horror. "Body can't hold your soul anymore."
"Wh… Dying?" Dean asked hoarsely, looking closer at himself lying on the bed. He did look pretty bad, he had to admit. Hell, he looked on death's door if he was being honest with himself. "What the hell happened?"
"Well, I'm no doctor, but I'd say somebody beat the hell outta you. Personal opinion." Zachary peered closer, before shrugging. "I'd say probably with a baseball bat."
Dean turned around, to look at his father and little brother again. "Are they… Are they really here? Is that really my dad and Sammy?"
"Yuppers. Been here a few days now. Oh, they got your friend Shawn out by the way. In case you're wondering," Zach said off-handedly.
"Oh yeah, he was here too."
"Who the hell are you?"
"I told you, Zachary –"
"No, I mean… how can you see me?" Dean asked, staring at Sammy. "How come you can, and they can't?"
"They're still alive. I'm not."
Zach grinned. "Really? You couldn't figure that out? I'm a ghost, man. Like… Boo!" He laughed manically.
"A… a ghost?"
"Indeed. Died during the Gulf War. Was doin' great when they shipped me state side… Other than the subdural hematoma they missed. Spent two days with my wife and son, and then, BAM! Presto dead-o."
"So… I'm dead?"
Zach sighed impatiently. "No, you're not dead! Do you not see all the machines still moving? You're dying, but you ain't quite there yet."
"If I'm not dead, how the hell am I here then?" Dean asked huffily, pushing past the ghost out into the hallway, glancing around. "And where the hell is 'here'?"
"Geez, kid, you ain't too bright, are you? You're crossing over. Dying, not dead. But close enough to dead that your soul escaped your body. And 'here' is St. Anthony's."