When Everything Comes Crashing Down
Sat in an old, worn, leather chair beside Sam's hospital bed, Dean's hand were wrapped around his little brothers. Dean's eyes were red from crying. His tough guy shield long demolished after the events outside the church. The haunting images of Sam coughing, choking and struggling for breath against the body of the Impala flooded Dean's mind, as they had done for the last 11 hours. Sam was still unconscious. Dean was completely alone. No one to call. Only three people remained in his family tree. One of them was missing, the other fighting for his life on every machine the hospital could offer. The doctor's couldn't diagnose what was wrong with him. But how could they? This wasn't just a really bad fever or a broken arm, Sam was the victim to a trial God created to shut the gates of Hell forever. The thing didn't carry an antidote.
Dean was torn from his thoughts by the light sound or whimpering from outside the door of Sam's hospital room. Furrowing an eyebrow, Dean eye's immediately widened at the sight before him.
There at the door, stood Cas. Breathing heavily and panting, he was gripping the doorway tightly as if it was the only thing keeping him vertical.
"Cas?" Dean asked, softly.
"D'n..." Cas's weak voice answered before his eyelids flickered and he collapsed to the floor.
Dean jumped from the chair he was sitting in and rushed over to Cas. Putting a finger to the angels neck, Dean was relieved to find a pulse, although it was dangerously weak. "Help!" He screamed. "I need help!"