Who Are We {2} (Dean Winchester)

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Brooklyn

My hands gripped the coffee I had just gotten, my nerves on their ends. Sam was in the hospital, in a coma. Just by the look of him, I knew it wouldn't be good, but I didn't say anything. Hoping that when the doctor got here and said the worst, Dean would get mad at him and I'd be there to comfort him.

This was supposed to go great, until, just like always, it all hit the fan.

I walked into Sam's room, finding Dean sitting next to Sam's bed. Right where I had left him.

There was no point trying to ask him to get some air or get something to eat. This was his brother and there was no way he'd just get up and leave.

Walking over to Dean's back, I reach in front of him and handed him his coffee. He took it with a mumbled, "Thanks."

"How is he doing?" I asked, holding my coffee in both of my hands as I looked at Sam.

"Don't know. They did an MRI, we're just waiting on the results," Dean said, his tension rising.

I nod behind him, before placing my hand on his shoulder, rubbing it lightly. His hand immediately rises and catches my hand, holding it before giving it a tight squeeze.

If this is in any way comforting to Dean, then I'll do it until Sam wakes up.

When the doctor walked in behind us, Dean and I were quick to pull our hands away. Dean stood up, both of us sitting down the coffees as we waited for the doctor to go over his charts.

"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."

Dean looked at his unconscious brother with sadness in his eyes. "This wasn't supposed to happen," He mumbled, causing the doctor to look at him strangely for a second.

He continued though, "If your brother continues on this trajectory, the machines might keep him alive, but –"

"He'll be dead," Dean finished, his tension rising.

The doctor sighed, "Technically, yes. I'm afraid so."

Dean quickly took my hand again, almost secretly as he asked the doctor, "So, there's – there's no recovery? I mean, there's no bounce-back. There's no nothing."

"I'm afraid that's in God's hands now."

As if my skin was comforting to him, and all he wanted was to blow up, Dean let go of my hand. He looked at the doctor angrily, his sadness seeping through as well. "You're a doctor. 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, God has nothing to do with this equation at all," Dean cut in.

The doctor tried to explain his words, only digging a deeper hole that Dean might put him in with one punch. "I didn't mean –"

"That's not good enough," Dean said, as if no one was trying to speak differently. With that, to my surprise, Dean stomped his way out of Sam's room, leaving just the doctor and I alone.

A sigh leaves my lips as the doctor looks at me, "I'm sorry, he's just, really worried about his brother. Thank you, for the information."

"Of course," The doctor nods before turning to leave. He stopped though, turning to look back at me. "Mrs. Dougherty," He said, using the fake name that would say Dean and I were married. That seemed to be the new idea, "I'm truly sorry."