Never Let It Rest (fifth book to Never Be Over You)

Chapter 10: Death's Door

"Bobby? Bobby? Hey, hey, hey, hey. Hold on." I say.
"Ash, is he dead?" Sam asks.
"I'm checking." I say. I check for a pulse.
"Is he dead?!" Dean yells.
"Just drive, Dean! Bobby!" I yell.
"You gotta talk to me, Ash!" Dean yells.
"Alright, he's breathing. There's a pulse." Alex says. Sam pushes numbers into a cell phone.
"Keep him upright. Stop the bleeding." Dean says.
"I'm not an idiot, Dean! I know first aid for a friggin' bullet to the head!" I yell.
"I need the nearest trauma center." Sam is talking on his phone.
"Hold on. Hold on." Alex says.
"What's the address?!" Sam yells. He hangs up the phone.
"Alright, Bobby, hang in there." I say. I can hear the van accelerate.
We get him to the hospital in record time thanks to Dean's driving. Right away there's nurses and a doctor rushing him and getting him into a hospital bed, wheeling him into a room.
"Page the neurosurgeon on call. Tell OR to put electives on hold." A doctor says as we follow the bed they're wheeling. "Move trauma 2 to bed 7 as soon as it's clean."
"Gunshot wound to the right frontal area, no exit wound found. Breathing spontaneously. Respiratory rate 18 and shallow. RST at 120 BP 90 over 60. GCS 5." A nurse says.
"Push 80 grams of Mannitol over 30. Prep for intubation."
"Air entry clear to bases."
"Let's get a central line in here now."
"What's happening? Please just tell us-" Sam starts.
"Get them out of here." The doctor says.
"Sorry. You need to stay out of their way." A nurse says to us.
"That's our uncle." Dean says.
"You got to stay back." Another nurse is cutting open Bobby's shirt.
"What are they doing?" I ask.
"We need to get him stable."
"Okay, when are you gonna take the bullet out?" Dean asks.
"If we can get the swelling down, if it's in a place we can get to, if-"
"If he even lives that long." Sam finishes. The nurse pulls the curtain closed blocking us from everything.
All we can do is wait here, and listen to what's going on in there.

"Push 30 more of Mannitol over 10. CBC and 'lytes. Bolus him with 500 saline." A doctor says.
"The vitals were stable two minutes ago." A nurse says.
"Well, he's crashing now."
I feel a tear slip down my cheek. This can't be happening.

"Blood pressure 130 over 90." A nurse says.

A doctor walks out and towards us.
"He's, uh, stable for the moment. Just have to see." The doctor says. We look over at Bobby through the opened curtain. He's in a hospital gown, has a bandage around his head and has a tube in his mouth.
"So, there's nothing else we can do?" Alex asks. Dean, Sam nor I can really talk right without breaking down or breaking something.
"I'm sorry. We just have to wait. We'll see if the swelling goes down."
"How long?"
"It's hard to say in cases like this."
"Well, he's lasted this long. That's something, right?" I ask.
"Well, yes. Listen – the bullet didn't shatter. Only one hemisphere of his brain was injured. These are all positive things. But...I don't want to give you false hope here. He's far from out of the woods. Most of the time, cases like this..."
"They die." Sam says.
"Right now it comes down to him. I'll keep you updated." The doctor walks away as another man walks up to us.
"Excuse me. Sorry to interrupt. Is one of you Robert Singer's next of kin?" The man asks. Dean and I walk with the man, while Sam and Alex stay. "We know this is a stressful time."
"Yeah, okay. No offense, you can skip the garnish. What, did his insurance lapse, or what?" I ask.
"We're sorry to ask, but, um, did your uncle ever make his wishes known in regards to organ donation? Organs are only viable for a very limited window-"
"Viable?" I ask.
"We're just hoping some good can come of this tragic-"
"Listen to me. I'm gonna say this once. He's not gonna die. It's one bullet. He's gonna be fine because he's always fine." Dean says.
"I apologize." The man says.
"Why are you talking to me like he's gonna die, huh? I do my job! Do your jobs? Save him!"
"Of course they're doing everything they can." The man says. Dean punches a glass covered sign that's right next to the man's head.
"Walk away. Now!" I say. The man walks away. Dean and I walk outside. There's a black car with heavily tinted windows. Dick Roman. I walk over there. Dean tries stopping me but can't. I pound on the rear window. "Dick! I know you're in there. Come on out you dick." The window lowers a bit. Enough so that I can see him. "What, did you come here to finish the job?" He smiles. "Yeah? Well, come on. Right here, right now, out in the open, you and me, Dick Roman. See? Deciding to jump a famous guy ain't all upside. You can kill me right now, you want to see it online."
"Maybe you should go check on that friend of yours. He can't be feeling too frisky right about now. I'm a very good shot."
"We're coming for you, and not just to hurt you, to kill you. You understand me?" Dean finally says.
"Come on Dean. I can't be killed."
"You're gonna wish you could be then." I say.
"That's some conviction. You'd really crush it on the motivational circuit." Dick laughs.
"You're either laughing because you're scared or you're laughing because you're stupid. I'll see you soon, Dick." Dean says then pulls me away.
Dean and I get coffee from a machine on our way back to Sam.
"What did that guy want?" Sam asks.
"Um, nothing. Just some insurance mook. Dick Roman was out there." Dean says.
"What? What happened?" Alex asks.
"Nothing... For now. It was just a friggin' staring contest. That was about it. What's the update?" I ask.
"The swelling's down a little. They took him off sedation. Apparently, he started fighting his tube. So they pulled them out and he's breathing on his own." Sam explains.
"That's good, right? Is that good?" Dean asks.
"Yeah. Well, doctor said best-case scenario." Alex says.
"Alright, so when they gonna take the bullet out?" I ask.
"Ash, they're not even gonna try that, not yet."
"What does that mean?" Dean asks.
"The word's 'abrading', I think."
"English." Dean says.
"Cutting out the dead brain tissue. That's if the doctor even thinks it's worth the risk."
"Alex? Can you do anything?" I ask.
"If I could I would. But I also don't have my grace, so I'm basically just human." A couple walk up beside us that are in the middle of a conversation, making us move away so they don't hear us.
"Guys, we need to talk." Sam says.
"What? Talk about what?" Dean asks.
"You know what."
"No, we're not gonna have that conversation." I say.
"Well, we need to." Alex says.
"He's not gonna die." Dean says.
"He might." Sam says.
"Sam." I say.
"Listen, we need to brace ourselves."
"Why?" Dean and I ask.
"Because it's real." Alex says.
"What do you want to do? You want to hug and say we made it through it when Dad died? We've been through enough." Dean says then walks away. I go sit down in a chair.
"Looks like Uncle Bobby's gonna die. He'll be here in hell, with me." I hear Lucifer say. I push into my hand again, making him disappear.
Dean eventually comes back. Two nurses are walking towards his room.
"Keep the head of the bed up for support. IV can run off the pump. Just run a TKVO. We'll have to wait for respiratory." One of the nurses says.
"Wait, wait, wait. What's happening?" Sam asks.
"He's showing signs of responsiveness. We're taking him up for surgery. If you want to see him, I'd squeeze in there quick." Sam, Dean and I walk into this room, Alex stays back. We're able to stand with him for about 2 minutes. "Sorry. We need to get moving."
"Right. Yeah." I say.
"Hey, um... Bobby, um, hey..." Sam says as he takes Bobby's hand. "Just... thanks... for everything." Sam puts his hand down.
"Alright. Please step back." The nurse says.
"Yeah." Dean says. Bobby raises his hand and opens his eyes.
"Wait, wait, wait, wait, stop. His eyes are open." I say.
"Bobby?" Dean asks.
"Hey." Sam says and puts a hand on Bobby's shoulder. Bobby removes the respirator mask covering his mouth and nose and takes Sam's hands. He looks like he's trying to talk.
"What, don't talk. Don't talk. A pen?" Dean asks. He grabs the medical chart hanging on the end of the bed and grabs the marker from it. "Here. Here, here, here." He hands the pen to Bobby.
"What is it?" I ask. He writes the numbers '45489' on Sam's hand. He smiles lightly as us, we lean closer.
"Idjits." Bobby says then his head falls back against the pillow and his eyes close. The heart monitor he's attached to beeps flat lines a beep.
"Bobby? Hey!" Dean says. We get pushed out of the room.
"Call a code, trauma room." The nurse says. A bunch of staff hurry to Bobby, attempting to revive him.

Bobby's POV
I walk through my house. Sam, Dean and Ash are sitting on my couch.
"You microbrewing in there, or what? Come on, we got a lot of Chuck Norris to get through. Let's go." Dean says to me. I open my fridge and take out three beers.
"Nice move, waking up like that." My reaper says.
"Motivation's a mother." I say.
"You know why it's dark out there, don't you? This house, it's your last island, everything else melted by that bullet, gone. This is your last chance to come with me and move on. For your own good, Bobby, let go. They'll be okay without you."
"Last memory, huh?" I ask. The reaper nods. "Glad I saved the best for last." I walk into the room where the boys and Ash are. Dean has the remote in his hand, sitting next to Sam who is eating popcorn.
"Alright, scoot, jerkface. Show your elders some respect." Dean says.
"You scoot, ass-hat." Sam says.
"Guys, just play the stupid move already." Ash says. Sam flips a piece of popcorn at his brother. I hand them the beers I got. Dean takes more snacks out of a plastic bag.
"Did we get licorice?" Dean asks.
"No, we did not get licorice. We got good snacks. Licorice is disgusting." Ash says.
"I'm sorry. I didn't quite understand that, uh, Mrs. Peanut-Butter-and-Banana sanwiches?"
"You know what? I stand by that sandwich. Nobody like licorice. It's made of dirt." I stand smiling at them.
"It's classic movie food. It's right up there with popcorn."
"Popcorn? Really?" Sam asks.
"Yes."
"You're out of your mind." Sam and Ash say in unison. They start fading.
"What, it's like little chewy pieces of heaven..." And then they're gone.

"Well Bobby? Stay or go, what's gonna be?"