don't go around tonight, well it's bound to take your life.

[mulletrock]

Who: Dean Winchester, OPEN TO ALL.
What: Dean takes matters into his own hands.
When: Early afternoon of today.
Where: Skye hospital.
Warnings: Sick things. Cursing.
OOC notes: Family, friends, and enemies otherwise are welcome to forward-date visits to yell and/or console him (most likely yell) when he's actually situated in a room. IDK. ♥

[It's hard to slip out unnoticed in a house that has half your family and a kid you're responsible for but he managed it.

He's been on bed rest for the past few days, enough to have the cycle of people looking in on him memorized. So when he saw opportunity, he took it.

He sat curled up in a cab with a sweatshirt on instead of his Dad's leather jacket and took it to the hospital.

When he gets there he's still hunching his shoulders in a way that's pretty indicative of him being in pain. For the people that knew him.

He's spent the past five minutes arguing with the receptionist.] Look, I don't give a shit if you're busy I'm not gonna sit around and infect my family. I don't care if you have t'keep me in a friggen' linen closet I'm not leaving.

[He's pale, his lips are chapped, and he looks miserable. It only takes the subtlest of brushes from a passerby to knock him flat on his ass.

His hand goes to his head because the room starts to spin.] Dammit... [He didn't even like hospitals, but this was necessary.]

Comments

[momchester]

Shhh. I love you too, sweetie.

[She leans into the kiss so he doesn't have to move, then tilts his head down and kisses him lightly on the forehead. Her arms wrap around him tighter, higher up his back and shoulders so she can worry a strand of his hair the way he used to hate when he was little.]

Are you still cold?

[It's a stupid question. Of course he's cold. It takes concentration and so much more effort than her sick brain can give, but Mary manages to call on her power- without making fire. Instead her entire body, already ten degrees above normal temperature without the fever, gets warmer, the flame flickering so low that it just heats her skin. She's gone human torch before- this is just a low burn. A radiator instead of a flame. It's subtle enough to almost feel like it's all in Dean's head.

She takes the next moment to run her hands through his hair and grip him closer, like a child, and talk to fill the silence. Every second of silence is a second that reality closes in. It's a second that she wants to run crying to Sam and yell at him to make it better- and a second that she realizes that... no. She can't leave Dean.

They don't have time for that.]

Do you remember the first time you ever got the flu? You were only three, and you had a fever of a hundred and two. [Cradling him, almost, stroking his hair and wishing she could hold him tight enough to protect him from this.] John and I were so- so terrified. Everything I had seen, all the hunts and curses I knew about, and it didn't matter. Seeing you sick scared me so bad.

The first night I checked on you every half hour to make sure you were still breathing. John thought I was crazy, I hadn't done that in... a long time.

[She used to, though. Check on him, when he was a baby, to make sure it was okay. That some monster, some demon, some beast hadn't stolen her baby in the night.]

At three in the morning I went in and found you wide awake, curled up with your little teddy bear- you were crying. The fever hurt so bad you couldn't stop crying. I curled up with you - just like this - and sang "Hey Jude" and told you I could make the owwie go away.

[She swallows thickly.]

When- when you finally went back to sleep... I went and cried on John for an hour. You were so deep asleep I couldn't wake you up- we were new parents, you had never been sick before, and-

-When you came in at six in the morning and jumped on the bed... I was so relieved I almost cried. You thought I was still sad, and couldn't stop saying you were sorry.

[Her arms tighten around him, bringing him closer- protectively. Possessively.]

You were so sick, and all I wanted was to make it better.

[mulletrock]

[Dean doesn't answer. He doesn't want to worry her any more than she already is. They're on this tiny hospital bed in a room the size of a closet and she's wrapped around him with a vice grip he doesn't have the heart to say hurts. He remembers being this worried, every time Sam had a vision in 2006 and every time he had to pick him off the floor because Stanford made him rusty. Life with Jess gave every supernatural piece of shit out there the upper hand.

That was when things were simple. Just the two of them, trying to figure out what took Mom. Yeah, he ran his mouth and they didn't see eye to eye but it wasn't the apocalypse, it was as close to normal as they ever got. Dad was missing and all their life boiled down to was finding him and getting back on the road.

It went wrong. Sam was supposed to go back. He was shopping for wedding rings and some sick part of Dean, a selfish part, couldn't be alone. He couldn't stand to be alone.

He probably could've found their Dad himself. Instead Sammy had to see Jess roast too.

It hurt him more than he was willing to admit that he still wanted that back. That naivety and something easier to deal with than frigging armageddon.]

Back before. [He's pretty hoarse. He's got a frog in his throat but he's not willing to take another drink because the last time he did he ended up using a turned over janitorial bucket because he couldn't make it to the bathroom in time.

Ben saw that. He didn't want to risk it again.] The last real memory I have is when I busted my knee riding my bike without my shoes.

[He smiles, but it's weak, and it's not genuine either.] You told me t'put 'em on before headin' out and... I didn't listen. I knew better. Knew everything and there was no way I was gonna let my Mom show me up in front of my friends.

[There's breaks as he talks so he can catch his breath. Saying anything at all is pretty tiring for him.] When Dad found me I was so sure I wouldn't be able t'sit for a week, but one look from you and he was a deer in headlights. You took me and cleaned me up.

I just remember feelin' like... no matter what I did, you'd never give up on me. You'd always be there.

[Dean exhales and you can hear the rattle in his chest when he does. He buries against his mother and tries not to cry.]

As shitty as this place is... I don't wanna leave. Not when you and Dad are here. Not when all I have t'go back to is more crap.

Sure, it's not exactly Leave it to Beaver... but it's as close as I'm gonna get.

[Dean pulls back, wincing, his IV is pinching.]

I'm not gonna leave you. I might not remember what happened last time but it'd take the force of God to rip me away. I'm not goin' anywhere. Not this time. You were always takin' care me of me, Mom, now it's my turn.

[That's how he really felt. Dean needs to hear it. Needs the support. He knows it's bad. He's so pale you can see the blue of the veins in his arms.] This thing's not gonna beat me.

[Dean swallows hard. The text message still burned into his memory. Cas is lying in a hospital bed like this one back home, straight jacket certified, with a demon.

Because of him.

He winds up going into a coughing fit. Throat too dry to really get that lump down.] I'm not- I'm not gonna screw this up.

[momchester]

[Mary remembers that day. It startles her sickly that he remembers it too. She listens through his meandering anecdote, grip loosening after about four seconds (because she herself is too weak to keep it up). When he talks about her never giving up on him, she pulls him a little closer, tucking his head under her chin. It's almost a beautiful moment, until he keeps talking and the bile starts rising in her throat.]

No. [Her world spirals down into a tunnel-vision of no. She runs her hands through his hair, choking on a breath and trying to reassure him- desperately.] No, Dean, don't talk like that- it'll be okay, you'll be fine, okay?

[She cups his face with unnaturally warm hands and lifts his chin so he's looking right at her, meeting his eyes too intently.]

You hear me? You're not screwing anything up and you don't have to worry about going back.

[He can't. He can't go back- she can't lose him again. She won't. She refuses. Her whole body is shaking slightly from fury that's completely frustrated, because there's no monster to protect him from, no car to lift off of him this time. She can't do anything and oh jesus, he looks so tired.]

[mulletrock]

It'll take a helluva lot more than a cold to waste me. [Dean smiles but it looks awful. His lips are chapped, his eyes are outlined in dark circles, and the movement at all makes the heart monitor skip.]

Where's Sam?

[Dean casts a queasy look in the direction of Ben, but Mary should know by now that when Dean's desperate to see his brother like this it's never a good thing.]

[momchester]

[Mary would follow his gaze and look at Ben too, but she can't look away from Dean. She's afraid that if she takes her eyes off him for a second, he'll disappear.]

He's getting food somewhere.

I never- [Her breath hitches on what's almost a sob.] I never told you-

[No. She can't lose it yet.]

-When Sam went... feral and became that thing- it hurt more than anything that happened here. My first day here ever, back in September- he was the first real person I talked to, and the first person I ever met here. Before John, before you, when you died- Sam was always here.

[She shakes her head, breathing too hard, trying so hard not to cry and losing the battle miserably. Tears are already welling up, cheeks damp a little, and it's all she can do to keep talking.]

Then he wasn't- I lost John and Tom and- everybody I knew turned into a monster or left me, and even Sam left me in the cold... but you were there. You stayed by me when nobody else did and you came back, and- I could never even talk about what happened with him, but you... you saved me more times than you'll ever remember. Just by being.

[The heart monitor skips again, freezing the blood in her veins. No. No. Please.]

[mulletrock]

Hey. [Dean smooths his rough hand over his mom's blonde hair. He leans in against her shoulder, and pulls her close against him ready to the rock she needs all over again even though he's pretty beaten up and it's getting harder to see.

Lucky for them both his face is tucked away and his eyes are screwed shut so he can fight against the vertigo.] I'm not goin' anywhere. Might not remember but if I have to I'll fight this thing tooth and nail. I can already tell you, as bad as this looks, I've been through worse.

[Without going into detail Dean makes it obvious he doesn't want to be anywhere but here with her. As lousy as it is.] Last thing I wanna do is die in a friggin' dress.

[momchester]

[Mary feels his hand in her hair and looks down at him, how tired he is, how uncertain he feels. God, she's being selfish. He shouldn't be lying here telling her it'll be okay. He's the one dying- she should be telling him.

So many years later, and Dean's still being the parent. With a surge of guilt, Mary smooths his hair back, presses a kiss into his hair with a tearful laugh. Her back is starting to hurt anyway, so it's a good excuse to turn over, so she's lying on her back more, rather than curled up on her side. The new position lets him lie with his head and shoulders on her, and her to put her arms around his shoulders and pretend like he's just falling asleep. Like he's a kid and they're watching TV and everything is normal.]

Shhh. [Gathering him closer. Being the rock.] It's okay. It's okay.

[He's tired. His body is getting weaker- she can feel it. God, as much as she wants to reach out and catch the strength draining from him, to keep it, to at least bleed herself dry to keep him going, she knows she can't. So she keeps talking, just to keep her breathing steady- talking, to keep the tears from coming back.]

You probably don't remember... I wasn't creative enough for my own lullaby. [A horrible kind of unfunny, self-deprecating chuckle. Fuck. Some powerful part of her wants to go back to when things were simple. She squeezes his shoulder lightly and starts to sing the words she used to sing to him when he was small.] Hey Jude, don't make it back, take a sad song and make it better...

[Her breath hitches on the last line, but she determinedly smooths her voice out and keeps on that same low tune.]

[mulletrock]

[Dean doesn't mind hearing it. Knowing that at least he'll be remembered. It's the same old story. He's dying and someone he cares about, someone that shouldn't have to, is holding him close and giving him reassurances they both know is a lie.

He doesn't say much. Every word, every syllable takes too much effort. It hurts and the words part from his mouth with a pained wheeze. She doesn't need that right now. So, he just buries against her. Listens to the lullaby and closes his eyes, sucking in his still wavering breath to keep himself from crying.

It's bittersweet. He shouldn't be hearing that now. When everything's crappy. It's something she should be singing to Ben, not him. Ben needs the comfort. He could go without.

His chest is unbelievably tight. Each exhale sounding like it's rattling his bones. He tightens his grip around her, as much as he can, anyway. All it ends up being is a weak hug with his fists balled loosely at her back.]