R I P T I D E

Chapter Two

Margret stood beside Sam as the doctor stands on the other side of Dean. A clipboard in his ands as he looks over Dean's charts. He had woken up and everything was okay. He was okay.

"I can't explain it." He stated "the edema's vanished, the internal contusions are healed. Your vitals are good. You've got some kind of Angel watching over you."

"Thanks, doc." Dean said.

He walked away, leaving the three of them standing together.

"You guys said a reaper was after me?" Dean asked looking between Margret and Sam.

"Yeah." They said in unison

"So, how'd I ditch it?"

"You got me. You really don't remember anything?" Sam asked

"No. Except this pit in my stomach. Sam, somethings wrong."

"How you feeling, Dude?"

Margret looked up at the door, John Winchester stood, leaning up against the door.  A tired look etched upon his face. His arm in a sling. 
She breathed out a small breath. She turned to leave, she felt like she was intruding on a family moment—-but Dean had grabbed her hand and that forced her to say where she was.

"Fine, I guess." Dean had replied. Taking his eyes off Margret to turn to face his father.
"I'm alive."

"That's what matters." John says

"Where were you last night."

John slowly shifted his eyes up to Sam. "I had some things to take care of." He said

"Well, that's specific."  

"Come on, Sam." Dean chided 

"Did you go after the demon?" Sam said, ignoring his brother.

"No."

"Why don't I believe you, right now?"

"Sam—" Margret sighed softly. Hoping that maybe she could stop them. She has witnessed a few of Sam and John's fights a few times in her life. When they were done, she would sit with Dean and listen as he complained bout it. She would comfort him the best she could, and that's all he ever asked of her.

So, living her hand, she placed it gently on Dean's shoulder. He looked up at her and smiled softly.

"Can we not fight?" John asked, causing the two to look over to him. "You know, half the time I don't know what we're even fighting about. We're just butting heads. Sammy, I've—-I've made some mistakes. But I've always done the best I could. I just don't want to fight anymore, okay?"

"Dad, are you alright?" 

"Yeah. Yeah. I'm just a little tired. Hey, would you and Margret mind.....would you mind getting me a cup of caffeine?" 

"Of course."  Margret said and grabbed Sam's arm. The two turned to leave the room.

Still holding onto Sam, Margret sighed softly as they made their way down the hall. Each holding a cup of coffee. She hadn't realized how much she needed it until she smelt the coffee beans.

"Did he seem a little off to you?" Sam had asked her quietly.

"It's John. He seemed like himself." She said, truefully.

"Yeah, but—- Dad?"

Margret gasped as she and Sam rush to the floor where a John Winchester lays.