Chapter Text
Dean woke up in a hospital room, flexing his surprisingly okay jaw before swinging his legs off the side of the bed and stepping into the hallway. He called for Sam and his father, but he opted for a trip to the nearest nurse's station when he didn't receive an answer.
"Excuse me. Hi. I, uh, I think I was in a car accident with my, uh, with my whole family," Dean told the woman at the computer, "I just need to find them."
She continued staring at the screen in front of her with furrowed eyebrows as if she'd never heard Dean say a word. He frowned. "Hello?"
He snapped his fingers in her face twice but still received no reaction. A sudden wave of anxiety washed over him as he ran back upstairs to his room and found himself lying on the bed, wires and tubes hooked up all over him on the hospital bed. Dean was sure he would've stayed frozen in his tracks for the rest of time if Sam didn't stop by his room soon after his discovery. Sam leaned against the door with a heavy sigh, staring at Dean's unconscious form on the bed.
He looked beaten down and exhausted, but he certainly looked better than Dean. "Sammy! You look good. Considering...Man, tell me you can hear me."
"Oh, no," Sam muttered to himself as he finally stepped into the room.
"How's dad? Is he okay? What about the kid?" Dean asked frantically. "Come on, you're the psychic. Give me some ghost whispering or something!"
A doctor appeared in the doorway before Dean could continue pleading with his brother. He told Sam, "Your father's awake. You can go see him if you like."
"Thank God," Dean let out a sigh of relief.
Sam frowned at him. "Doc, what about my brother?"
"Well, he sustained serious injuries: blood loss, contusions to his liver and kidney," the doctor pursed his lips, "but it's the head trauma I'm worried about. There's early signs of cerebral edema."
"What can we do?" Sam asked.
"We won't know his full condition until he wakes up," he gave Sam a sympathetic glance. "If he wakes up."
"If?"
"Oh, screw you, doc, I'm waking up," Dean grunted.
"I have to be honest, most people with this degree of injury wouldn't have survived this long. He's fighting very hard," the doctor reassured Sam, "but you need to have realistic expectations."
"Come on, Sam. Go find some hoodoo priest to lay some mojo on me," Dean told his brother, frowning at his hopeless expression. "Sam?"
*****
"Here," John awkwardly fiddled with his wallet with one arm in a sling for a card that he handed over to Sam. "Give them my insurance for the three of us. We'll figure out the kid later."
Sam smiled as he read the card. "Elroy McGillicutty?"
"And his two loving sons," John raised an eyebrow. "What else did the doctor say about Dean?"
"Nothing," Sam rolled his eyes. "Look. The doctors won't do anything, then we'll have to—that's all. I don't know, I'll find some hoodoo priest and lay some mojo on him."
"We'll look for someone," John assured his youngest, "but Sam, I don't know if we're gonna find anyone."
"Why not? I found that faith healer before," Sam frowned.
"Alright, that was—that was one in a million," John told him.
"So what? Do we just sit here with our thumbs up our asses?" Sam argued.
"No, I said we'd look. Alright? I'll check under every stone," he paused for a brief moment. "Where's the Colt?"
Sam couldn't stop the glare he shot at his father. "Your son is dying, and you're worried about the Colt?"
John kept his voice level. "We're hunting this demon, and maybe it's hunting us, too. That gun may be our only card."
"It's in the trunk. They dragged the car to a yard off of I-83," Sam answered that time. "I already called Bobby. He's, like, an hour out. He's gonna tow the Impala back to his place."
"Alright. You go meet up with Bobby. You get that Colt, and you bring it back to me," John instructed. "And watch out for hospital security."
Sam nodded and stood to leave, but John stopped him and held out a piece of paper with a list of items that he claimed he needed Bobby to pick up for him. When Sam asked why, John didn't offer any details besides 'protection'.
"Hey, dad? You know, the demon said he had plans for me, and children like me," Sam said worriedly. "Do you have any idea what he meant by that?"
John shook his head. "No, I don't."
Sam walked out, leaving John staring blankly at the wall in front of him. As Sam shut the door behind him, Dean's location behind the door was revealed.
Dean frowned at John. "Well, you sure know something."
*****
Dean didn't learn anything else about his father or what he might know about Sam before the man was helped into Dean's room to visit his eldest son.
"Come on, dad. You've gotta help me. I've gotta get better, I've gotta get back in there," Dean told his father, hoping he'd somehow miraculously get through to him. "I mean, you haven't called a soul for help. You haven't even tried. Aren't you going to do anything? Aren't you even going to say anything?"
He walked around the bed, closer to the man. "I've done everything you have ever asked me. Everything. I have given everything I've ever had. And you're just going to sit there and you're going to watch me die? I mean, what the hell kind of father are you?"
Before Dean could criticize his father any longer, he heard a choking sound down the hallway. As soon as he stepped into the hallway, a white cloud of what he guessed was some kind of spirit flew past him.
Dean frowned, glancing over his shoulder at his father. "I take it you didn't see that."
He quickly followed after the spirit down a couple of hallways until they were far from any other person. Dean's stomach dropped as he turned the corner and saw a woman lying on the ground, clutching at her throat as she futilely gasped for air.
She and Dean both cried out for help, but between her inability to shout and his inability to be heard, nobody came to the woman's rescue. It was only a few moments longer before her panting stopped, and she went still. Dean crouched beside her, leaning over her with a helpless frown. She was dead.
*****
Dean returned to John's room, frantically trying to get through to his father for only a few moments before he gave up. He slumped in the chair in the corner, his anger still flaming at the sight of his father taking no steps to save his life. Eventually, there was a knock on the doorframe, and both Dean and John snapped their heads towards the sound and found Percy clutching the frame beside him as if he'd lose balance without it. Dean silently scolded himself and John for not checking on him sooner.
"You're alive," John observed.
Compared to how Dean looked in the other room, Percy was the epitome of health, but he still looked rough. The wound on his temple looked worse than it had before, and Dean wished he could be heard so that he could yell at whoever was neglecting to take care of it. That didn't even account for countless scratches that littered his face and arms, the gash across his left collarbone, and the general exhaustion that was clear on his face.
"Where are Sam and Dean?" Percy asked.
"Sam's fine. He's out picking up the Colt and some other stuff for me," John told him.
"The Colt? Can you even shoot it like that?" Percy rolled his eyes, gesturing at John's slinged arm. "What about Dean?"
John couldn't seem to answer him. Dean glared at his father. "Tell the kid I'm alive, dad! Stop actin' like I'm already gone!"
"Is he...?" Percy straightened his back a bit and swallowed back the rest of his sentence.
John shook his head. "No. Sam and I are looking for someone to help. I just...you might want to go see him."
Percy nodded softly. "Where is he?"
With a lazy gesture down the hall, John told Percy which room was Dean's, and the kid wasted no time pushing himself off the doorway and dizzily making his way through the hallway. Once he arrived, Percy resumed his previous stance at the door and stared at Dean's still body with a heavy frown.
"Stop lookin' at me like that, kid," Dean told him, standing right beside him and still failing to be heard. "I'm right here, come on."
Percy never said anything, but he did eventually limp over to the pile of Dean's stuff that he had on him during the crash in the corner, most of which was either bloody or broken. He pulled out Dean's phone gingerly, and despite how battered the thing looked, it still appeared to be usable when Percy turned it on with a sigh of relief. His eyes flickering between Dean's body and the phone in his hand, Percy seemed to have a quick inner debate that Dean didn't quite understand before he dialed a number and held the phone to his ear.
His fingers tapped nervously on the edge of the device, and it suddenly became clear to Dean that whoever Percy was calling was somebody that he had no interest in speaking to.
"Hey, don't do whatever the hell you're doing," Dean rolled his eyes, trying and failing to smack the phone out of his hand. "Sammy's gonna find someone."
Percy's eyes widened as the phone clicked. Dean couldn't hear the person on the other side. "Can I talk to di Angelo?...Yes, I'm fine...I said I'm fine. Is Nico there or not?"
Dean watched Percy's eyes flicker around the room—always watching—before Percy started talking again, "Hey there. I need your help."
*****
Percy's phone call was incredibly uninformative, in Dean's opinion, but at least he seemed to be doing more than John. Percy had settled in the chair at Dean's bedside, not doing anything more than staring at his body miserably. He didn't have much time to be worried about it before Sam returned, though.
"You're awake," Sam released a relieved sigh, some of the tension in his shoulders retreating. At least somebody had been watching over the kid, Dean thought.
"Yeah," Percy agreed distantly.
"Hey, Sammy," Dean waved a hand at his brother. "Tell me you can friggin' hear me, man. There's something in the hospital. Now, you've got to bring me back and we've got to hunt this thing. Sam!"
"Have you seen my dad?" Sam asked Percy, paying no mind to Dean's pleas.
"In his room last time I saw him," Percy answered.
Sam nodded, spinning on his heel and stalking down the hall. Percy slowly limped after him while Dean hurried behind his brother, flinching when Sam angrily threw the duffle bag in his hand at John's chest.
"Did you think I wouldn't find out?" He demanded angrily.
"What are you talking about?" John asked exasperatedly as Percy finally found his way into the room.
"That stuff from Bobby," Sam scoffed. "You don't use it to ward off a demon, you use it to summon one. You're planning on bringing the demon here, aren't you? Having some stupid macho showdown?"
John sighed. "I have a plan, Sam."
"That's exactly my point! Dean is dying, and you have a plan!" Sam shouted. "You know what, you care more about killing this demon than you do saving your own son!"
"No, no, no, guys, don't do this!" Dean waved his arms around uselessly, coming to stand between Sam and his father.
His pleas were drowned out by John's arguing, "Do not tell me how I feel! I am doing this for Dean."
"How? How is revenge going to help him? You're not thinking about anybody but yourself," Sam gave a bitter shake of his head. "It's the same selfish obsession!"
Dean continued to beg them to stop as if his words held any weight. Percy's eyes flickered nervously between the duo as John fought back, "You know—it's funny—I thought it was your obsession, too! This demon killed your mother, killed your girlfriend. You begged me to be part of this hunt. Now, if you'd have killed that damn thing when you had the chance, none of this would have happened."
"It was possessing you, dad, I would have killed you, too."
"Yeah, and your brother would be awake right now," John spat.
"Go to hell," Sam muttered darkly, taking a step towards the door.
"Shut up, both of you!" Dean scolded.
"I should have never taken you along in the first place. I knew it was a mistake, I knew I was wrong—"
Dean raised his voice, "I said shut up!"
Angrily, he swatted at the glass of water on John's bedside table. It went flying off the surface and shattered on the ground. All four of them stared at the shards, shocked and confused at best.
Dean grunted at it, impressed with himself. "Dude, I full-on Swayze'd that mother."
Dean didn't have time to sing his own praises any longer before he bent forward in pain that resonated from his core outwards. "What now?"
A couple of nurses and a doctor sprinted by in the direction of Dean's room. Percy, suddenly much faster than he was before, followed behind them with Sam joining shortly after. The two of them huddled together in the doorway and watched the doctors attempt to resuscitate Dean amongst the intense beeping of the machines he was hooked up to.
Sam tried to step forward, but Percy grabbed his arm to hold him back. Sam knew a lot, but Percy was pretty sure that didn't include medicine. Percy couldn't bring himself to release the tight hold he had on Sam's arm afterwards, frozen in his spot as they made a second attempt to restart Dean's heart.
By that time, Dean had enough time to collect himself and appear beside his two family members watching him. He watched the same translucent figure from earlier float over his body, reaching out towards his corporal form.
"You get the hell away from me," Dean growled, rushing forward and grabbing onto the creature. He pulled it away from himself. "I said get back!"
It didn't take much wrangling before Dean had successfully thrown the figure aside, and it completely left him alone. His monitors settled back down, now only beeping with his heart rate.
"We have a pulse," one of the nurses announced. "We're back into sinus rhythm."
Dean rushed into the hallway, scanning back and forth for the spirit but finding nothing. He turned to see Sam and Percy, visibly more relaxed now that Dean wasn't dying.
"Don't worry, you two. I'm not going anywhere. I'm getting that thing before it gets me. It's some kind of spirit, but I could grab it," Dean rolled his shoulders back, "and if I can grab it, I can kill it."
*****
Once all the chaos had settled down, Percy was sent back to his own room for the doctors to do some final examinations before officially discharging him. He plopped himself on the edge of the bed, his heel nervously tapping on the ground while he awaited a doctor. Percy was desperate now more than ever to get out of that hospital and start helping Sam find somebody to heal Dean. He'd seen plenty of people die, but seeing Dean lay there lifelessly while the professionals tried to restart his heart still managed to generate a dreadful and anxious pain in his chest.
There was a singular knock on the door after which Percy expected a nurse or doctor and got no such thing. Instead, a familiar face revealed itself as the door swung open, glaring at Percy.
"Where the hell have you been?" Nico di Angelo stepped into his room, angry and accusing. "You don't respond to anyone's messages for months, and then you're calling me about a car crash?"
Percy opened his mouth to bite something back, but his throat had suddenly constricted at the sight of the boy. He was taller than the last time Percy had seen him.
"I'm sorry," Percy managed to get out.
Nico rolled his eyes as he approached, digging out a Saran wrapped piece of ambrosia and setting it on the nightstand. "Will wanted me to give that to you. I told him it probably wouldn't fare well with the mortals, but I figured it might help you out later."
Percy gave him a nod, glancing at the magical food that served as a brutal reminder of the life that he'd ripped himself away from. Nico stared for a few moments before he tired of the silence and sighed. "What did you need help with?"
"Talking to a ghost," Percy answered sheepishly.
Nico blinked. "Seriously?"
"It's important! I've been traveling with this guy and his brother for a while now," Percy insisted. "And he's still alive."
"What help am I, then?" Nico raised an eyebrow. "My father's the Lord of the Dead, not the Lord of the Comatose."
"Can you just try?" Percy sighed as he ran a hand over his face. "Please."
After a long silence accompanied by the mild annoyance radiating off the younger of the two, Nico nodded. "Where is he?"
"He's down the hall," Percy told him, "we can go in a couple of minutes once I'm cleared to leave."
A nervous pause. Ever the observer, Nico tilted his head. "What?"
"They don't...they don't know about me," Percy explained, "about us."
"Why not?" Nico asked.
"These guys, uh, hunt the supernatural for a living," Percy bit his lip. "I'm just not sure what all that includes yet."
"Percy," Nico started with a sigh.
"Don't lecture me," Percy stopped him. "They're helping me look for my mom."
Nico finally took a seat in the chair along the wall. "I checked the Underworld for her when I saw your letter," he told Percy. "She wasn't there last time I looked."
Percy nodded as a heavy weight lifted from his chest. "I don't know if whatever she's caught up in is ours or not. It's part of the reason I need these two."
"You'd be fine without them," Nico argued. "If anybody would be fine, it'd be you."
After a brief silence, Percy looked sideways out the window and quietly admitted, "I don't know about that. Things are...harder than they used to be."
"She's in Elysium," Nico understood what he was talking about. He probably understood better than most people, Percy told himself to avoid getting angry.
Percy blinked back the tears welling behind his eyes and laughed breathily. "Where else would she have gone?"
Their conversation ended there until a nurse arrived to make sure Percy was safe to discharge. As soon as he signed the papers and gathered his very few items, he was leading Nico down the hall to Dean's room. He pushed open the door to reveal Sam sitting criss-crossed on the floor, fingers resting on an unmoving ouija board planchette.
"Having fun?" Percy raised an eyebrow.
"I thought it could work," Sam looked like a deer in headlights.
"Is it?" Percy asked.
Sam shook his head, his gaze catching where Nico had hidden himself behind Percy's shoulders. "Who's that?"
Percy stepped aside, forcing Nico into view. "This is Nico. He's, uh..."
"A medium," Nico finished for him boredly.
Sam finally pushed himself to his feet and moved to shake Nico's hand. "And...how do you two know each other?"
"Nico's my cousin on my dad's side," Percy answered. "I thought he might be able to talk to Dean or something."
"Well, I was pretty unsuccessful on that front," Sam sighed.
Dean watched curiously, and still invisibly, from where he remained seated on the floor. He could sign over his nonexistent life savings to the kid right now if he'd really brought in somebody that could talk to him.
"No way this twelve-year-old is solvin' our problems," Dean shook his head, "but I'll try just for you, kid."
Surprisingly, Nico looked right at him. Well, almost right at him. It was more like he was looking through Dean, but at least at he was in the right direction.
"What?" Sam urged.
"There's definitely someone here. They're not dead, so...," he turned to Percy, "could be the guy you're looking for."
Percy nodded towards Sam's abandoned ouija board. "You should try it."
Nico looked incredibly unamused. "And why do you think that'll work?"
"Nico," Percy sighed exasperatedly, and much to the Winchesters' surprise, that seemed to be enough as Nico rolled his eyes and assumed Sam's position across from Dean on the floor.
"Dean," Percy said to the air, "if you can hear me...try your best."
"What he said," Nico muttered towards the board, placing his fingers down on the planchette. "Okay, Dean. Are you here?"
"This better work," Dean rolled his eyes at his unfortunate fate of trying to use the ouija board not only once, but twice that day.
He felt surprisingly more corporeal as he set his fingers down this time. With furrowed eyebrows, Dean pushed the planchette in the direction of YES, his eyes widening when it actually started to move this time.
"I'll be damned," Dean studied the young teen in front of him, his expression blank but his eyes flashing with surprise.
Sam let out a relieved laugh from where he was standing nearby with Percy. "It's good to hear from you, man. It hasn't been the same without you, Dean."
"Damn straight," Dean grinned, pushing the planchette around the board again. Nico read off the letters as he indicated them.
"Dean, what? Hunt? Hunting? Are you hunting?" Sam asked, and Dean answered with another YES.
"It's in the hospital, what you're hunting? Do you know what it is?" Sam rattled off.
Dean sighed at his frantic brother, unsure of how to answer. Thankfully, the Nico boy stepped in, "One question at a time."
"What is it?" Percy asked.
"I don't think it's killing people. I think it's taking them," Dean explained to nobody as he started to spell. "You know, when their time's just up."
"A reaper. Is it after you?" Upon receiving a YES, Sam continued, "If it's here naturally, there's no way to stop it."
"Time's up," Nico muttered.
"Really?" Sam asked, not even bothering to conceal the disappointment in his voice.
Nico shook his head. "No, no. 'Time's up,' that's what he said. I heard it."
Dean's eyes widened again. "You can hear me?"
"A little," Nico answered him.
Judging by the way his shoulders tensed and his eyebrows knit together with concern, that seemed to mean something to Percy. Dean looked up at him. "What?"
Nico didn't seem to hear that one, but he still turned his gaze in Percy's direction with a frown. "It doesn't necessarily mean that, Percy."
"What does it mean, then?" Percy snapped back at him, uncharacteristically defensive.
"What are you two talking about?" Sam dared to ask.
"Nico can talk to the dead," Percy explained, "so if he's starting to hear Dean more and more..."
Dean sighed. "I'm getting closer to dying."
"Well, I can't see him yet," Nico offered, "so that's still a good sign."
After a long pause, Sam scoffed sadly. "Man, you're, um..."
SCREWED, Dean spelled out via Nico.
"No. No, no, no, there's gotta be a way," Sam paced the room once as he wracked his brain. "Dad'll know what to do."
He didn't wait for any arguments before he stepped out of the room and went to find John Winchester. Much to Dean's dismay, Percy followed, leaving Dean alone with the Nico kid. He briefly considered getting up to join Sam and Percy down the hall, but Nico's voice stopped him before he could even remove his hands from the planchette.
"Dean?" He said quietly. "Are you still here? I have a favor to ask."
Dean hesitantly pushed the planchette to YES. He wasn't huge on doing favors, especially for a guy he had never seen before today. This Nico guy was lucky Percy liked him.
"Percy...," Nico sighed, staring down at the spread of letters. "He'd kill me if he heard this conversation, but I'm worried about him. A lot of people are worried about him. His best friend calls me practically every day asking if I've heard from him."
Dean frowned, feeling helpless. What was he supposed to do with that when he was about to die? He wasn't sure what else to do other than spell out OK.
"He's been through a lot, and Annabeth...," Nico shook his head. "He won't talk about her, he didn't come to the funeral because of everything going on with his mom. And now with Sally missing...there's nobody looking out for him. He won't let anybody. Except you two, I think."
YES, Dean confirmed.
Nico looked relieved. "I think he's worried about letting people be too close after what happened to her. But can you just promise me, for my own peace of mind? That you'll keep an eye on him if you live?"
'If you live' probably would've set Dean off normally, but it was hard to scrounge up that anger while a boy was pleading with him to look out for his family. He nodded, giving Nico another YES.
"Thank you," he said. "Oh, and if he ever gets hurt because of you and your brother, I swear to you that you'll regret it. And I'm not even the cousin to worry about."
With his all-black getup, literal skull ring, and brooding eyes, Dean didn't particularly believe him. He didn't have time to express that before Sam and Percy returned to the room, though.
Sam sat at the foot of Dean's bed with John's journal in his hand. "Hey, so dad wasn't in his room, but we got dad's journal, so who knows? Maybe there's something here."
"Where is he?" Dean asked.
"Got a 'where'?" Nico said unsurely. Dean hoped his uncertainty that he'd heard Dean correctly was a good sign.
"John?" Percy shrugged. "Isn't that just the million dollar question?"
"Percy," Sam scolded without any malice, but it was enough to shut him up before he could voice any complaints about John Winchester.
Percy wasn't necessarily pleased with the man's behavior, to say the least. With the knowledge that your own mother sacrificed herself to Gabe Ugliano and the Minotaur for you, it was hard to sit by and watch John Winchester do nothing for his eldest son, especially when Dean was the one that told Sam not to shoot him.
Sam gingerly flipped through the journal with occasional glances at Dean's physical body beside him until he reached a page titled 'Reapers'.
"Thanks for not giving up on me, Sammy," Dean said, abandoning the ouija board and going to stand at Sam's side. He leaned over Sam's shoulder and read a few lines on the page. "Son of a bitch."
*****
It wasn't a long journey before Dean found Tessa again, the woman who'd been in a similar situation as him. According to John's journal, however, she was no woman. She sat on the edge of a bed, no longer adorning the hospital clothes that Dean still was.
"Hi, Dean," she greeted him.
"You know, you read the most interesting things. For example, did you know that reapers can alter human perception? I sure didn't. Basically, they can make themselves appear however they want. Like, say, uh," he tilted his head at her, "a pretty girl. You are much prettier than the last reaper I met."
"I was wondering when you would figure it out," she admitted.
"I should have known. That whole 'accepting fate' rap of yours is far too laid back for a dead chick," Dean shook his head. "But the mother, and the body, I'm still trying to figure that one out.
"It's my sandbox," she offered a shrug, "I can make you see whatever I want."
"What, is this fun for you?" He spat. "Toying with me?"
Her eyes were sad but not empathetic. "You didn't give me much choice. You saw my true form and you flipped out. Kind of hurts a girl's feelings. This was the only way I could get you to talk to me."
"Okay, fine. We're talking," he spread his arms out in front of himself. "What the hell do you want to talk about?"
She stood from the bed and approached Dean, gently placing a hand against his cheek. "How death is nothing to fear. It's your time to go, Dean. And you're living on borrowed time already."
"Look, I'm sure you've heard this before, but...," Dean sighed as he looked sideways through the window, "you've gotta make an exception. You've gotta cut me a break."
"Stage three: bargaining," she said bluntly.
"I'm serious," he insisted. "My family's in danger. See, we're kind of in the middle of this, um, war, and they need me."
"The fight's over."
"No, it isn't."
"It is for you, Dean. You're not the first soldier I've plucked from the field. They all feel the same," she explained to him. "They can't leave. Victory hangs in the balance. But they're wrong. The battle goes on without them."
"My brother. He could die without me," Dean argued helplessly. "I just promised to look out for the kid. They need me."
"Maybe they do, maybe they don't. Nothing you can do about it," she sighed. "It's an honorable death. A warrior's death."
"There's no such thing as an honorable death," he replied. "My corpse is going to rot in the ground and my family is going to die! No. I'm not going with you. I don't care what you do."
"Well, like you said. There's always a choice. I can't make you come with me. But you're not getting back in your body. And that's just facts," she said concisely. "So yes, you can stay. You'll stay here for years. Disembodied, scared. And over the decades, it'll probably drive you mad. Maybe you'll even get violent."
"What are you saying?"
"Dean," she tilted her head, "How do you think angry spirits are born? They can't let go, and they can't move on. And you're about to become one. The same thing you hunt."
And oh, if that wasn't one of Dean's greatest fears. Turning into a monster. He slumped towards the empty bed, sighing as he took a seat on the edge. Tessa approached him cautiously, kneeling behind him and gently stroking his hair.
It was silent for a long moment before she spoke, "It's time to put the pain behind you."
He frowned. "And go where?"
"Sorry. I can't give away the big punchline. Moment of truth. No changing your mind later." She stopped comforting Dean and moved to stand in front of him. "So what's it going to be?"
He turned to look at her again, as if her face would offer some semblance of an answer. There was hardly time for him to look before the lights started flickering.
"What are you doing that for?" He asked.
"I'm not," she said with a panicked undertone.
They both turned towards the vents as black smoke began to pour into the room. Tessa stepped back, yelling that the smoke wasn't allowed to do this. She screamed for it to go away, but it proved to be useless as it surged into her mouth and turned her eyes an eerie yellow.
She opened her mouth to speak, but the voice that came out was gargled and sly. "Today's your lucky day, boy."
Before Dean could react, she stepped forward and placed a hand on his forehead, and he could only feel himself shaking for a moment before the world went dark.
*****
"I can't explain it," the doctor said once he finished Dean's checkup. "The edema's vanished. The internal contusions are healed. Your vitals are good. You must have some kind of angel watching over you."
"Thanks, doc," Dean told the man before he left. He turned to Sam. "So you said a Reaper was after me? How'd I ditch it?"
"You got me," Sam shrugged. His voice was hesitant, like Dean would disappear if he got too cocky. "Dean, you really don't remember anything?"
"Not really, besides this pit in my stomach," Dean shook his head. He shot a glance at the young boy in the corner who Percy had briefly introduced as Nico. Can you just promise me, Dean recalled the boy's voice in his only vague memory from his time outside of his body, that you'll keep an eye on him? Since his first glance in Nico's direction, though, he knew he was meant to be keeping that to himself. He turned his thoughts back to the issue at hand—his miraculous recovery. "Sam, something's wrong."
Dean caught Nico put a hand on Percy's elbow as a knock sounded from the entrance to Dean's room. John Winchester leaned against the doorframe, his eyebrows knit with concern. Percy and Nico exchanged a look that Dean didn't quite catch before the former told Sam they'd be back, and the duo let John step into the room before leaving and closing the door behind them.
Nico stepped down the hall out of earshot of the Winchesters' hospital room before he turned to Percy looking frantic. "What did you do?"
Percy frowned at him. "I didn't do anything."
"Percy, there are people that care about you, alright?" Nico shook his head, clearly frustrated. "And I am tired of watching you throw your life around like—"
"What are you talking about?" Percy interrupted, his palms held up in surrender for a crime that hadn't even been named.
Nico glared. "Dean? The 'angel' that cured him? I've seen you try this before."
"I didn't...," Percy furrowed his eyebrows, "I didn't do anything."
"Then why does it feel like this?"
"Like what?" The hair on the back of Percy's neck stood up.
Nico didn't answer, but thankfully, he didn't need to. Realization dawned on Percy's face as he spun on his heels back to Dean's room. He stepped in, eyes wide, ready to interrogate the Winchesters, but Dean was the only one who remained.
"Where are the other two?" Percy asked frantically, Nico peeking out from behind him.
Dean frowned at him. "Dad sent Sam to grab a coffee, and then he went back to his room for something."
"Shit," Percy bit out, practically shoving Nico aside as he backed out of Dean's room and dashed down the hall.
"Kid, what the hell? Kid!" Dean shouted after him but ultimately went ignored. He shot a glare at Nico, still standing in the hallway with tense shoulders. "Hey, help a man out of his room?"
"I don't...I don't think you want that," Nico shook his head, glancing sideways in the direction that Dean knew to be Percy's and his father's. The wave of anxiety that shot through him was enough of an adrenaline rush to help Dean push himself out of bed just as Sam returned with John's coffee.
The commotion down the hallway was unmistakable. Hospital staff was rushing into John's room, and Sam and Dean only exchanged a brief glance before they both hurried down the hallway, stopping at the doorway where Percy had been pushed aside and was clutching onto the doorframe as he looked upon the scene in front of them—a team of doctors desperately trying to revive a collapsed John Winchester with seemingly very little luck.
Dean tried to step into the room but was quickly pushed back by a nurse as she arrived. "No, no, no," Dean pleaded with her to no avail, "it's our dad. That's our dad!"
"Okay, stop compressions," the doctor instructed.
"Come on, come on," Dean muttered under his breath. Sam had frozen on his feet.
One of the nurses told him, "Still no pulse."
Percy spared a sideways glance in Nico's direction a few feet away from the scene, his shoulders sagging when the younger boy just gave him a sad look and shook his head. His eyes traveled back to the two Winchester brothers, wishing he could somehow prepare them for what was about to happen—wishing he could've gotten to John Winchester just a few moments sooner.
"Okay, that's it everybody," the doctor said disappointedly, "I'll call it. Time of death: 10:41 A.M."