Song Remains the Same

Chapter 56: Truth Be Told

"Nobody said it would be easy. Nobody said it would be this hard.
Oh take me back to the start..."
- Coldplay

Dean had spent more nights just like this than most people ever would: wide awake and listening to the harrowing rhythm of a hospital heart-rate monitor as he worried if his brother or sister or father or friend was gonna pull through. Today, it was Alex's steady heart rate he was hearing translated to that familiar pulse of beep, beep, beep.

The oldest Winchester sat in a flimsy chair next to his sister's hospital bed where he'd been stationed for going on three hours now. He had his arm resting on the bed, his hand over hers. He wasn't gonna let go until she came back.

Dean was exhausted mentally and physically as usual, but it was all made worse from the vampire crap and the cure bullshit. Those two things left him feeling like he'd been hit by a semi truck, run over by a steam roller, scraped up with a spatula, and then shoved into a blender. The entire hellish night was a horrible, effed up blur. He remembered getting here to the hospital and racing two unconscious chicks into the emergency room with Samuel as Sam had parked the van, but after that... all he remembered was that the doctors said Alex was unconscious for no discernible reason and they had basically said she must be a narcoleptic. He recalled yelling at the doctors for being certifiable dickbag morons when they'd arrived at that ludicrous, unfounded conclusion. That had been the brief moment when he'd almost been kicked out for unruly behavior, but Samuel had pacified the situation somehow. And now Dean was resigned to wait. Alex's condition was apparently stable enough that the doctors weren't worried. But that didn't keep Dean from worrying.

He paused, looking up and over across the hall—he could see through the open doors into Jamie's room. She was still and drained of all color. The doctors said it looked like she'd had a massive stroke. She was currently in a deep coma—but it wasn't a normal coma. She was at fatal levels of feverish and her brain activity was off the charts. They'd 'never seen anything like it.' Dean heard that phrase so damn often in his line of work and he was tired of it. He turned his attention back to his sister, squeezing her hand again, studying her still face for a few seconds. Mumbling a vague threat like he always did when they were younger and she didn't wanna wake up. "Hey, wake up, Al." Beep, beep, beep. "Hey." He paused. "I'm gonna steal all your clean socks if you don't get up." Beep, beep, beep. No response. No suddenly waking up and pushing Dean away and valiantly defending her socks.

If Dean had been a praying man, he would be on his knees. The thought crossed his mind to call Cas for help, but stubborn, bitter pride kept him from trying. It wasn't dire yet. And last time Alex had a problem Cas had stepped in. Dean could handle this one. He hoped.

Where the hell was Sam? Dean realized it had been more than thirty minutes since his gigantic brother had shown his face. He should be here, in this room, with his family. Dean guessed that his brother was probably out in the car listening to the police scanner or reading a newspaper in the hunt for a new case, which made Dean want to hit something. This wasn't right. Sam wasn't right. He was pissing Dean off all the time and making him more and more uncomfortable. He tightened his jaw and heard his teeth groan in protest. Even when the twins had been at odds, even when they'd downright hated each other, they'd had each others backs and had never been as apathetic toward each other as Sam was being toward Alex. It was like he just couldn't be bothered with worrying about his own flesh and blood. Dean had a pretty awful theory that if Alex died... Sam wouldn't even bat an eye.

Well. At the very least Dean wasn't a blood-sucking Twilight wannabe anymore, right? Samuel's insane cure had worked and he was a human again. And so was Alex—Dean had checked her gums several times now, verifying that there were no traces of telltale vamp chompers. They would be resting, mostly hidden, above the canines. He checked her again, just to be triple, quadruple sure she really was magically healed—by leaning in and grabbing her top lip and pulling up, peering. Normal, human gums. Man, he owed Jamie a million apologies, huh? He felt really bad. And like he'd really misjudged.