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I wasn't sane. Maybe I never would be again. But once the birds all landed, everything was quieter. Dean kept me quiet. Not because he was. But because he was so scared inside that the sounds of it pushed away all the endless colors that made me wrong. It was all that mattered. Sam mattered. And if he should leave, Dean would matter. I was convinced, barely, to not think about Castiel. Dean kept me focused. He was right. They needed me.
All we could do is get him to a hospital. Wait for them to poke and test and poke some more until they let us see him. Then wait in agony for the doctor to talk to us. I never let Sam go. Never drop the stone. Fragile glass now. Watching things the machines could not see. "How-how bad...how bad is it?" Sword asked me.
"Falling away from us...shutting off the lights as he goes..." I whispered without taking my eyes off the pale unmoving brother on the bed.
"Can..can you do anything? That grace you got..."
"No.." My own words hurt. All I could do is touch him. Powers trapped inside me. I couldn't reach him.
The doctor finally came in, not looking at the charts in his hands. He didn't need to. He didn't bring good news. He's done this a hundred times over. Never easier. Delicate hopeful faces he had to crush everyday.
"The MRI shows massive internal burns affecting many of the major organs. Oxygen to the brain has been severely deprived. The coma is the result of the body doing everything in its limited power to protect itself from further harm."
I clenched my eyes and my fingers over Sam's. "Running but it can't hide..."
Dean looked at us. The ones he loved most. Both broken. Only one left. "This wasn't supposed to happen. "
"If your brother continues on this trajectory, the machines might keep him alive, but -"
"He'll be dead," I finished for him.
"Technically, yes. I'm afraid so."
Swords were stubborn. They didn't like to accept to defeat. "So, there's - there's no recovery? I mean, there's no bounce-back? There's no nothing?"
"I'm afraid its in God's hands now."
Wrong thing to say. Even I was angry now. "God is a child...broke his toys and ran away."
He looked at me strange. Every one always did. Stupid wrong mind...
"You're a doctor," Dean snapped not too loud yet," You're a medical professional. You're trying to tell me that my brother's life is in God's hands? What, is that supposed to be a - a comfort?"
"Mr. Dougherty-"
"No! That's not good enough! God has nothing to do with this equation. At all!"
