Heaven on Earth

chapter 9

Dean was finally free of the damned bed, but he had to move around in either a wheelchair or on crutches. He fell into his wheelchair and sighed, making his way down the hall to go see how Adam was doing. He had been seeing the kid every day since he'd been able to and hell if he didn't pour his damn heart out.

Castiel was home, taking care of the bakery. Dean mumbled something under his breath about how stupid it was to miss him as he wheeled into the elevator and punched the button for the ICU floor.

As soon as he got up to the floor and into Adam's room, he realized how empty the room was. Usually Adam's mother or, sometimes and, Sam were there with him, occasionally Castiel. Dean hadn't been alone with the kid while in here. He wheeled himself over to the bed and sighed again, shaking his head. This was his fault.

Adam was laying in bed, pale, seemingly sleeping with a bunch of machines connected to him, and it was Dean's fault.

"I'm so sorry, man," Dean whispered, voice breaking slightly. He closed his eyes and swallowed thickly. After a moment he opened them again. "This is all my fault. You're in this damn bed, connected to all this shit and barely frigging alive because of me. Hell, buddy, this is a shit circumstance. I should be the one in-"

A loud, long beep interrupted him, and Dean looked up at the screen. A flat line was greeting his gaze in the place the jagged zig-zag lines of a heart rate should be.

Nurses rushed in. A doctor followed them. Dean quickly moved himself out of the way, barely breathing, and knowing he wasn't noticed.

His brother was dead. He had flat-lined, the machine proved it. His brother was gone.

Adam was gone.

***

The doctor had done CPR. "One, two, three..." Dean remembered it well. The repetition of the counting, the breaths, the chest compressions.

"We've been told to do everything to keep this kid going," the nurse near him breathed, a tall blonde in green scrubs. At least Adam died in a hospital where the nurses were hot.

"O.C.M?" The doctor replied, and the nurses nodded. "Scalpel."

Dean's eyes widened and his breathing grew shallow when the doctor pressed the blade to Adam's chest and cut right above his heart.

The rest became a blur. The doctor's hand in his brother's chest, working his brother's heart for him. The blood, the skin, the sounds, the whispers of the nurses, the tears running down his own face as he watched his brother die.

The doctor closed his eyes and extracted his hand. "Call it," he whispered, peeling the reddened latex glove off of his hand slowly.

A nurse looked down at her watch. "Time of death-"

A beeping interrupted her words and all of the nurses and the doctor looked up, a collective gasp coming from them. "But-"

"He was dead-"

"That's impossible."

"He's Adam Winchester," Dean breathed. "We're friggin' invincible and immortal."

The nurses then turned towards him and the doctor jumped when blood splattered on his face. "Someone get me a kit, stat!" He covered the slice in Adam's chest with his hand and cursed under his breath, obviously realizing it was no longer gloved. The blonde ran out of the room and the doctor turned back toward Dean. "Explain."

"I've been here the whole time, Doc. I was in here when he lost and here when you lost and here when you both won."

It was then that Castiel ran into the room, breathing heavily. Dean looked over at him and smiled slightly, shaking his head. Castiel had flour all over his arms and part of the front of his jeans. The doctor was still frowning at Dean, though, and that caught Dean's attention again.

"You didn't speak up so someone could take you out?"

"No!" Dean said in disbelief. "The thought didn't even- dammit, Doc, that," Dean pointed at the bed, where Adam was being stitched up, "is my brother. I was talking and he just died! I couldn't even think, for God's sake!" He stared down the doctor, despite being about three feet shorter than him, confined to the wheelchair. Damn wheelchair. "My own freakin' brother died in front of me," he growled, knowing his eyes were on fire and his cheeks were still stained from tears, "and you expected me to worry more about getting out of the damn room?"

Dean wanted to stand up and punch him. He wanted to punch the asshole's face in, even if he had just saved Adam. The guy was a freakin' dick and deserved it. Suddenly, a hand was carding through Dean's hair, almost immediately calming him.

"I'll get him back to his room, Doctor," Castiel replied, and Dean closed his eyes as he felt his chair start to move. When it stopped and he heard the door sliding closed as much as they could get away with, Dean opened his eyes. "Dean, calm down," Cas leaned over slightly to help Dean onto the bed. Dean slung his arm around Cas's neck and let himself be lifted before speaking.

"I can't. The dick was practically pissed at me for being unable to speak when my own brother was dead in front of my eyes."

"He also brought him back," Cas sat next to Dean on the bed, his hand on Dean's hip, leg pressing against Dean's cast. "You can't be angry at him."

"I am!"

"Dean."

"The guy's an ass and needs to go to hell."

"Dean," Cas spoke with a rougher tone.

"What?" Dean snapped, turning to stare at him. His gaze immediately softened when he looked at Cas's eyes. "Sorry."

"It's fine." Cas whispered, squeezing Dean's hip. Dean licked his lips and looked down. "Why didn't you get yourself out of there?"

"I couldn't move or think..." Dean swallowed. "All I could think was 'my brother just died in front of me,' Cas." Dean felt Castiel shiver slightly and coughed, feeling bad for bringing up bad memories. "He was just laying there and I- I just couldn't think. All I knew was that moment, I couldn't even think about you. I broke at that moment."

"Shh, Dean," Castiel shushed him, hand moving up to Dean's hair. His fingers ran through it. "Adam's fine, baby."

"I know."

"Don't worry about him."

"I can't help it. I worry about the people I love. Like you, I worry about you." Dean felt Castiel shake his head and looked up, frowning when he saw Castiel crying. "Baby?"

"Dean, I-"

Dean knew that tone of voice. When Castiel was reluctant to do something, when he didn't want to, but had to, he got that tone. He shook his head frantically. "Cas. Cas, don't-" He took in a deep, shaky breath.

"You got hurt. I knew it was going to happen."

"Not now, Cas, not now."

"I have to, Dean. I can't possibly let you get hurt anymore. You know what happened to the others, they died. I- I dont even want to think about you dying," Dean watched in shock as Castiel let out a sob. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Dean didn't realize Castiel had taken his hands from his hip and hair until Cas reached out to wipe his cheeks. "Don't touch me," Dean hissed. "Don't even- just, don't."

He watched as Castiel stood slowly. "I'm-"

"Go away."

"De-" Castiel started, then shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"If you were sorry, you wouldn't do this. Leave."

Dean watched Castiel shuffle to the door, tears rolling down his cheeks and onto his arm and leg.