Being Pure

Chapter Twenty-Four: Run

Chapter Twenty-Four: Run

Addison's POV:

Sam is in bad shape.

That's what I have to keep telling myself every time my mind starts to wander. It's been doing that a lot these past two days, jumping all over the place as I slowly process the new information. Dean wouldn't talk about it, but I don't know if that's because he was too preoccupied with his brother or if it would just be too hard for him. Either way, it's making me go crazy because I have no one to talk to about the fact that I'm going to die.

But Sam is in bad shape. That's all matters.

Should I say goodbye to people? Is that something I should do? But who would really miss me other than my brother? He's the only one I still talk to. My parents probably wouldn't even know if I died. I cut them out when I left LA months ago. Emma would be a good person to say goodbye to. But I haven't talked to her since Jason got his hands on her. I've been too scared to pull her into all this. Maybe it's for the best that I don't tell anyone I'm going to be dead.

Damn it, Addie. Get it together for Sam. He's in bad shape.

I should probably get my affairs in order. Do people like me even have affairs that need getting in order? I mean, I don't have any real money and all my crap is in the bunker. I could always just throw it all away so the Winchesters don't have to deal with it when I'm gone. Or maybe it would just be easier to off myself. That way I can decide when and where I die. But I know I'm too chicken to ever do that and I don't want to have my hands covered in the blood that comes along with raising Lucifer-except technically I'll be soaked in it anyway.

How much longer could I really have? A few months at most. I'm sure the demons will be very on top of the task of killing me. My stomach twists painfully as I realize I probably won't even make it to summer. It's the middle of April now and I wonder if I'll even make it to May.

Pulling myself out of my head, I look over at Sam and sigh. I feel horrible for being so distracted when he's the one in the hospital. We drove straight here after the angels jumped ship and we've been here ever since. I haven't seen the outside of this painfully bright hospital in days.

Monitors surround Sam, the semi-irregular beeping signaling his heartbeat. There are other needles and tubes stuck into his arms, but I have no idea what any of them are for. I asked one of the nurses last night, but I didn't really understand a word she said.

When we first got here, there was a crush of panic that comes along with a new trauma patient. But everything settled down pretty quickly and they got him stable. Then the doctors rushed him into surgery and repaired what they could before bringing him here. The waiting was the worst part. Most people think it's the lack of information or knowledge that makes your heart pound for hours and your stomach get so twisted you feel like puking your guts out. But it's the waiting that really kills you. Waiting for the nurse to come out shaking her head or smiling. That's what we were waiting for.

Dean was a mess the first night, his face so contorted in pain I barely wanted to touch him. He would hold his breath to try and stop crying, but then he would hold it for so long I would freak out and shake him until he took another breath. But every time he exhaled there would be another gut wrenching sob and I would squeeze him tighter than I already was. They finally told us we could see Sam and I practically had to carry Dean in there he was so weak. He could hardly stand before we saw Sam, but when we rounded the corner and his little brother came into view he just collapsed, his knees hitting the ground and his head falling into his hands. That's when I finally cried, but my stream of tears was nothing compared to the ocean he was crying. It took us a while, but we finally hauled ourselves to our feet-mainly because the doctors were saying we couldn't stay in the hallway-and entered Sam's room. Dean just sat down in the chair by Sam's bed and stared at his little brother, pain and guilt chasing each other across his face. While I ended up sitting on the floor and then falling asleep there, Dean didn't sleep a wink that night.