Chapter Text
Sam opens his eyes. Blood trickles down his face from somewhere above his hairline. The driver's side door of the Impala tears away with a shriek of metal, and a man fills the space. Trucker hat. Beard. Eyes like oil slicks. Sam's hand tightens around the Colt in his lap. "Get back. Or I'll kill you, I swear to God."
"You won't." The demon's voice comes out flat, certain. "You're saving that bullet for someone else."
Sam cocks the hammer. Raises it. Aims center mass. "You wanna bet?"
The trucker screams. Black smoke explodes from his mouth in a rush, dispersing into the night. The man drops like his strings got cut. Sam exhales hard, head falling back against the seat. The trucker stares at the semi, at the crumpled Impala, face draining white. "Oh my God."
"Dad." Sam turns right. John doesn't move. Doesn't blink.
"Did I do this?" The trucker's voice cracks.
Sam ignores him. "Dad?! Dean?! Dean?! Ads?! Addison?!” A groan from the back seat. Sam's chest loosens. "Dean?! Addison?!"
"Sam." Addison's voice comes out weak, threaded with pain.
"Ads, just stay with me. Stay awake. Okay? Please."
She laughs, but it sounds wet. Wrong. "I — I'll do my...best."
Sam twists to look back. Addison's face is painted red, blood everywhere but no obvious source. Dean's unconscious beneath her, his shirt dark and soaked. She's still pressing both hands to his chest. The right side of the Impala's caved in like a fist hit it, the rear passenger side demolished. Sam's throat closes. "Ads, is — is Dean..."
"He's — he's still alive."
Sam reaches for John again, shakes his shoulder. "Dad? Dad?"
"I — I gotta help Dean." Addison's whisper barely carries. Tears cut tracks through the blood. "He can't...He can't..."
Sam catches her reflection in the rearview. She's trying to push herself up, arms shaking. "Ads, don't move. Help's on the way. Okay? Just hang on."
She sobs, still trying to sit up. Sam leans over the seat, cups her face with one hand. His fingers come away sticky. "Ads, you gotta stay still. Help's on the way."
Addison groans. Her eyes open to fluorescent lights, too bright and humming. She blinks at the ceiling tiles, then scans the room. Beige walls. Monitors beeping somewhere to her left. Hospital.
Footsteps, quick and soft. Sam appears in the doorway and crosses to her in three strides. He pulls her into his arms, careful but desperate, and kisses her hard. The antiseptic smell burns her nose but she doesn't care. His hand slides into her hair, holding her there. She kisses him back, fisting his shirt in one hand like she's drowning. When he pulls away, he cups her cheek. "How are you feeling?” He sits on the edge of the bed, his hand coming to rest on her thigh. Neither of them acknowledges it.
"Uh, my back hurts. And my leg—really hurts." Addison sinks into the pillows. "Other than that, I feel good."
Sam's smile is thin. He shifts closer. His thumb moves in slow circles against her thigh. "The doctor said your leg was broken pretty badly. They took you straight into surgery when we got here."
He hesitates. Addison watches him. "What?"
"Your back wasn't broken, but there's damage to your spinal cord. They can't tell how bad until the swelling goes down."
Addison stares at her feet. "Oh."
Sam takes her hand. "Ads, the doctor said it looks like your spinal cord's still intact."
She nods. Shifts. Pain lances through her back and she goes still. "What's the name on the insurance?"
"McGillicuddy. You're listed as married to Dean."
"I swear if my first name on there is Lucy, someone's getting their ass kicked."
Sam laughs, quiet but real. "No. Pretty sure it's just Addison McGillicuddy."
"What about you? You look like you're in one piece."
"I'm fine. Bruises and scrapes."
Addison reaches up, fingers light on his face, tracing the dark marks. "Most of this is from that demon."
"Yeah." Sam leans into her touch, just slightly. He breathes in. "Dad's fine. Banged up, dislocated shoulder, but he's fine. Dean, he's—he's in a coma."
"A coma." She says it like she's testing the weight of the word. Sam nods. "He's gonna wake up, right?"
"They don't know. The doctor said he has serious injuries. They won't know the full extent until he wakes up."
"We'll be hopeful. Wait for him to wake up. And if Dean decides to be stubborn like he always is, then we'll find something."
"Yeah." Sam exhales. "I'm meeting Bobby to pick up some stuff. Do you want anything?” She shakes her head. Sam hugs her, kisses her cheek. "I won't be long. I promise."
Addison gives him a soft smile as he pulls back. She watches him leave, then closes her eyes. Breathes. "Everything's going to be fine. Everything's gonna be fine."
A tear slips out. She wipes it away fast. She feels a hand on her thigh. Her eyes snap open. Nothing there. Her hand goes to her neck, searching. The necklace is gone. She drops her hand and stares at the ceiling.
Dean sighs as he walks into Addison's room. He's spent most of the day drifting through the hospital, trying to figure out what happened after he woke up outside his own body. Sam's gone. John's asleep. Not that it matters—no one can see him anyway.
Addison's asleep. Dean looks at the machines she's hooked up to, the monitors tracking things he doesn't understand. He sits on the edge of her bed, careful even though he knows it doesn't matter. "Man, Ads, this wasn't supposed to happen." He drags a hand down his face. "We were supposed to find the demon and kill it. After that, I don't know. Hell, I was hoping we'd go out or something. But maybe not. Given that you were making out with Sam earlier. Which—where the hell did that come from, Ads?"
Addison groans. Her eyes open.
Dean leans forward. "Please tell me you can hear me."
She reaches for the call button.
"Mrs. McGillicuddy, how are you doing?" The nurse walks in, all cheer and efficiency.
"My back." Addison winces. "It feels like a thousand needles are stabbing me."
"We can take care of that." The nurse checks one of the machines, frowns. "Oh. Looks like you've reached the maximum dosage. Let me get the doctor and see what we can do."
Addison forces a smile until the nurse leaves. "Yeah, you do that. I'll just lay here in agonizing pain."
Dean laughs. "Yeah, that's gonna get you the pain killers you want.” She rolls her eyes. Dean freezes. "Ads?"
Addison shifts, hunting for a position that doesn't hurt. She breathes out slow and closes her eyes. Dean puts his hand over hers. "God, I could really go for a drink," she mutters.
Dean shakes his head. "Yeah. You and me both. Because I want to know what the hell is going on between you and Sam."
Addison stares at the wheelchair. Anger and determination burn in her dark amber eyes. She's pulled the blanket off her left leg, exposing chipped red polish on her toes. She's been staring at her foot since the nurse took the lunch tray. "I can do this." She focuses on her toes. Wills them to move. Nothing. Footsteps rush toward her room. Sam bursts through the door. "What's wrong?"
"He wants to summon the demon." Sam's voice is raw with fury as he shuts the door behind him. "Dean is dying, you have a spinal injury and a broken leg, and all he cares about is getting his revenge."
"I'm sure John cares about Dean getting better."
Sam shakes his head hard. "He had me get supplies. Said it was for protection from the demon. Bobby said it's for summoning the damn thing. Dean almost just died and all Dad cares about is his obsession."
Addison pats the bed. Sam sits. She wraps her arm around him, rests her cheek against his chest. "Everything's gonna be fine, Sam. You just gotta have faith."
Sam leans his cheek against the top of her head. "When I was watching them work on Dean, I felt something."
Addison runs her hand up and down his back. "Like what?"
Sam's hand moves through her hair, slow and absent. "Like Dean was there. Just out of sight."
"Coma patients have been known to become spirits."
"I don't know. Maybe."
"Then you know what you need to get, right? Easiest way to check."
"Yeah." Sam presses a kiss to her cheek and stands. "I'll be back in a minute."
"Sam." He stops at the door. "Do you know where my necklace is?"
"No, but I'll find it." He gives her a sad smile and leaves. Addison looks back at her foot. Concentrates. Her toes don't move.
A knock. Addison looks up from the tray of hospital food. John walks in, left arm in a sling, dressed in his regular clothes. "How are you feeling?" He sits in the chair next to her bed.
"Been better. Doctor says the cast stays on for at least six weeks. My back's fine, just some pain and swelling. But I'll be okay." She leans back against the pillows. "How about you?"
"I'm fine."
Addison watches him. "Don't summon the demon, John. You just...you shouldn't do it."
John nods slowly. "Sam told you."
"He didn't have to." She winces, shifting her weight. "Dean's gonna get better. We'll find a way to help him. Right now his body just needs time to heal. Dean wouldn't want you to do this. Please. Don't summon the demon."
John runs a hand down his face. "You know, I'll never understand things between the three of you, but you're good for each other." He shakes his head and stands. Addison doesn't expect the hug. She holds him tight. "Take care of them, Addison."
She pulls back, shaking her head. "You don't need to do this, John."
John's hand rests on her shoulder. "Take care of my boys, Addison."
She knows there's no arguing with him. Not now. "Of course," she says quietly. John leaves. The door clicks shut behind him. Addison crosses her arms over her chest, sinks into the pillows. "Fuck."
Addison wheels herself into Dean's room. It took some convincing, but she talked a doctor into letting her use a wheelchair to visit. Dean's lying there surrounded by tubes and monitors. "Oh, Dean." She wheels closer, takes his hand. Careful of the IV. She squeezes. "Dean, you gotta wake up. I—I can't lose you. You can be an ass sometimes, but you're my best friend. I need you in my life. I just...I can't lose you, Dean." She wipes her eyes, breathes in. "So please. Wake up.” She's still holding his hand when Sam walks in carrying a large paper bag. "Hey." He gives her a soft smile, sits on the floor, and pulls out the ouija board.
Addison pushes herself out of the wheelchair. Sam's beside her in a second. "Ads—"
"If you think I'm missing out on this, then you are out of your damn mind, Sam Winchester."
"You have to stay in the chair. Unless you want your back injury to get worse." Sam gently guides her back into the wheelchair. She huffs and looks away. He smiles, sits on the floor next to her, and sets up the board.
"When I was fourteen my dad caught me using one of these. He was so pissed. But I think it was more because I wanted to talk to Napoleon. He wasn't real big on me trying to talk to nineteenth century dicks who wanted to take over the world."
Sam shakes his head. "I need to tell them to lower your morphine."
"Or you could tell them to up it." Sam gives her a look. "What?"
Sam turns to the board. "Dean, we think maybe you're around and if you are...don't make fun of me for this, but we can use this to talk."
He puts both hands on the planchette. "Dean, if you are here, give us a sign," Addison says. Sam glances at her. "Fine. Dean, are you here?"
The planchette slides to 'yes.' They both smile.
"It's good to hear from you, man. It hasn't been the same without you, Dean." The planchette moves. 'H.' Then 'U.' "Dean, what? H...U..." It moves to 'N.'
"Dean, are you hunting?" Addison exchanges a look with Sam. The planchette goes to 'yes.'
"It's in the hospital, what you're hunting—do you know what it is?" Nothing moves. "What is it?" The planchette spells out 'R-E-A-P.'
"Oh God." Addison's voice drops. "It's a reaper."
"Dean, is it after you?" The planchette moves to 'yes.' Sam lifts his hands off. "If it's here naturally...there's no way to stop it."
"No. We will find Death and break its leg with a baseball bat or something."
"Dad'll know what to do." Sam stands. "I'll be back real quick."
Addison looks at Dean's body. "I swear to God, if you even think about feeling me up, I'll kick your ghost ass. I mean it. I'm not in the mood to recreate Ghost."
"Dad wasn't in his room." Sam comes back holding John's journal. "But I got his journal. There could be something in here." He starts flipping through pages, then stops. "Shouldn't we get you back to your room?"
Addison shrugs. "They know where I am."
"Just making sure."
Addison sighs as she washes her hands in the small bathroom attached to Dean's room. She and Sam found nothing in John's journal that could help with the reaper. She grabs a paper towel, dries her hands, tosses it in the trash. Takes a breath. Slowly pushes herself out of the wheelchair. Pain rips through her lower back. She drops back into the chair fast. She opens the door and stops.
"We couldn't find anything in the book." Sam's talking to Dean. "I don't know how to help you. But me and Ads, we'll keep trying. As long as you keep fighting." He laughs, but it sounds broken. "I mean, come on, you can't leave me here alone with Dad. We'll kill each other, you know that. And we both know Ads isn't as good as you at running interference between me and Dad." He breathes out. "Dean, you gotta hold on. You can't go now. We were just starting to be brothers again. Can you hear me?"
Addison pushes the door open wider, wheels out. "Hey."
"Guess you heard that."
"Yeah." She takes his hand and squeezes. "Sam, we're gonna do everything we can. It's just gonna take some time. We'll start in the morning. We'll look through every book we can think of, call everyone that might be able to help. But we are gonna do everything we can."
"Thanks—"
Dean jerks. Gags on the breathing tube. Sam and Addison freeze.
"Dean?"
"Sam, go get help." Addison snaps out of it, wheels toward the bed as Sam heads for the door.
"Help!" Sam yells into the hallway. "We need help!"
Addison sits next to Dean's bed. Sam stands behind her, one hand on the back of her wheelchair. Dean's lying there looking fine. Normal. "I can't explain it." The doctor reads the chart, shaking his head. "The edema's vanished. The internal contusions are healed. Your vitals are good. You've got some kind of angel watching over you."
"Thanks, doc," Dean says. They watch him leave. Dean looks at Sam and Addison. They gave him the short version of the last few days. "So you said a reaper was after me?"
"Yeah," Sam says.
"How'd I ditch it?"
"No clue." Addison leans forward slightly. "Dean, you honestly don't remember anything?"
Dean shakes his head. "No. Except this pit in my stomach. Something's wrong."
A knock. John appears in the doorway. "How you feeling, dude?"
Dean shrugs. "Fine, I guess. I'm alive."
John smiles, small and tired. "That's what matters."
"Where were you last night?" Sam's voice is sharp.
"I had some things to take care of."
"That's specific."
"Sam." Addison gives him a look.
"Did you go after the demon?" Sam ignores her.
"No."
Sam scoffs. "Why don't I believe you right now?"
John's smile turns sad. "Can we not fight? Half the time we're fighting, I don't even know what we're fighting about. We're just butting heads. Sammy, I've made some mistakes. But I've always done the best I could. I just don't want to fight anymore, okay?"
Sam stares. "Dad, are you all right?"
"Yeah. I'm just tired. Hey, Sam, Addison, would you mind getting me a cup of caffeine?"
"Yeah, sure." Sam grabs the wheelchair handles. Addison pats Dean's leg before Sam wheels her out.
"We should get some pudding," Addison says as they head for the elevator. Once they're far enough away, she reaches back and smacks his stomach. "What were you thinking?"
"Sorry." They reach the elevator. Sam hits the down button. The doors open and they get in. Addison presses the button for the cafeteria floor. "I just wanted to know. He goes missing for the entire night and Dean suddenly gets better—"
Addison sighs. "Sam, I get where you're coming from. Believe me, I do. But you should've waited. You brought the whole mood down. We're all alive and healthy and in one piece."
"Except you're not."
"Yeah, but I'm alive. And that's what counts." Sam sighs. She's right. "Hey, did you ever find my necklace?"
"Oh, yeah." Sam pulls a small plastic bag from his pocket. Gold chain with a cross inside. He hands it to her and she smiles. She tries to put it on but he takes over, fastening it at the back of her neck. His hand lingers there. His thumb brushes the small heart tattoo at the base of her hairline.
"Thank you," Addison says quietly. She touches the gold cross. Sam squeezes her shoulder.
Addison wheels into Dean's room and tosses a pudding cup into his lap. Sam went to find John. She made her way here. "Courtesy of the hospital caf." She holds out a spoon.
"Where's Sam?" Dean takes the spoon.
"He went to find your dad to give him the world's best cup of coffee."
"How do you feel?"
"Could be better, but I'm alive and that's what counts." She feels his eyes on her. Sighs. "The doctor said there was some damage to my spinal cord."
"Can you walk?"
"I don't know. I can't..." Her voice drops. "I can't feel my toes.” She clears her throat. "How about you, Mr. I Just Woke Up From A Coma?"
"Fine. Any idea when we can—"
Sam rushes in. "It's Dad. Something's wrong."
Dean throws the covers back. Sam helps him out of bed. The three of them move down the hallway. They reach John's room. He's on the bed, doctor and nurses surrounding him. A nurse intercepts them. "No, no, no, it's our dad. It's our dad," Dean says.
"I'm sorry, you can't be here."
"Let's try again—an amp of atropine," the doctor calls.
"I'm sorry, but you have to leave."
"It's our dad." Dean's voice breaks. Addison reaches up and grabs Sam's hand.
"Come on."
"Stop compression," the doctor orders.
"Come on, come on."
A nurse checks John's wrist. "Still no pulse."
Sam squeezes Addison's hand. The heart monitor flatlines.
"Okay, that's it, everybody." The doctor steps back. "I'll call it. Time of death—10:41 A.M."