memento vivere - supernatural & criminal minds

chapter 22

Chapter 22
The Almighty Father

A knot twisted and tightened in Jude’s stomach as the doors of Jefferson Memorial Hospital parted for her. She stalled for a moment in the waiting area, taking in Sam’s pacing form. One eye was circled in a purple bruise and a few cuts marred his skin, but he seemed otherwise fine. Or as fine as he could be.

“Sam?” 

His shoes squeaked to a stop against the linoleum and his head whipped towards her. He ran for her, pulling her against his chest. Jude had to stifle a sharp intake of breath as he squeezed her, but she didn’t dare ask him to loosen his grip. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course,” she whispered, gently rubbing his back before she pulled away. She reached up to touch a large scratch across his cheek and he winced. “You look like shit.”

Sam scoffed. “Thanks.”

“How are Dean and John?”

“Both unconscious,” he sighed, staring down at his feet. “I think Dean’s in worse shape. I haven’t gone in to see him yet, though. I haven’t been able to.” Jude knew this wasn’t at the request of the doctors. He hadn’t wanted to see his brother alone.

“Okay,” she tried to smile, keeping her voice soft. “Do you know what room he’s in?” Sam nodded and turned to guide her through the hospital. Jude twirled her rings around her fingers as they twisted through the uniform white halls to the familiar tune of beeping monitors and weeping families. When they reached Dean’s room, they both stopped cold. “Jesus.”

Lacerations littered Dean’s skin where he wasn’t covered by a thin blue blanket. The beeping of half a dozen monitors harmonized around him. A breathing tube was shoved down his throat as he lay there, horrifyingly still. If not for the rise and fall of his chest, Jude would have thought him a corpse. For all her time spent among the dead and dying, she still hadn’t been prepared. It was different to know the person afflicted.

She entered first and Sam followed slowly as if he’d been waiting for her to lead. Jude slid into the uncomfortable grey chair beside Dean’s bed, her hands shoved beneath her thighs to hide their shaking from Sam. He leaned on the windowsill behind her. Neither could think of anything to say.

There was a soft knock on the doorframe and a stout man in a doctor’s coat stepped in. “Your father’s awake,” he said to Sam. “You can go see him if you like.” The doctor seemed to notice Jude’s presence then and nodded solemnly. She returned it.

“What about my brother?” Sam asked, his voice laced with a quiver.

“Well, he sustained serious injury.” The doctor glanced at the chart tucked under his arm. “Blood loss, contusions to his liver and kidney. But it’s the head trauma I’m worried about. There’s early signs of cerebral edema.” Jude’s muscles seized. She was no Spencer Reid, but she knew enough medical terms to recognize that as a cause of irreparable damage.

Sam’s eyes dropped to his brother before returning to the doctor. He couldn’t seem to look at Dean for long. “What can we do?”

“Well, we won’t know his full condition until he wakes up. If he wakes up.”

Jude’s eyebrow twitched. “If?”

He nodded. “I have to be honest, most people with this degree of injury wouldn’t have survived this long. He’s fighting very hard.” This was not surprising, considering who they were talking about. Dean could start a fight in an empty room. Of course he’d give head trauma a run for its money. “But you need to have realistic expectations.”