Supernatural: Pancho and Lefty (Epilogue)
All disclaimers, notes, warnings and summary are in the Master post: Pancho and Lefty
Epilogue
It was the fourth time Dean had woken up since Sam and Joe had carried him through the doors of the emergency room at Ivinson Memorial Hospital three days earlier. It was the fourth time he'd opened his eyes and looked around for vampires before he looked for Sam. It was the fourth time he'd tried to push himself up from the bed, pulled at the stitches in his side, and ended up hurting himself.
Sam didn't think Dean remembered the first three.
"Hey," Sam said softly. He stepped closer to the bed and wrapped his hand around Dean's arm to calm him. "It's okay. They're gone."
Dean turned his head and looked up at him, his eyes glassy from both pain and pain relievers.
"You're in the hospital. You got shot, remember?"
Dean nodded slowly, but still looked uncertain.
"Hunting accident in the mountains. With an antique Winchester rifle."
The side of Dean's mouth curled in a tired smile. "S'ironic."
That had been one of Sam's first thoughts, after the surgeon - who was apparently a gun buff - told him what kind of bullet he'd pulled out of Dean's abdomen. It hadn't been the first question; that had been, "Is my brother alive?". It hadn't been the second or the third, either. Those were, "Is my brother going to be all right?" and "When can I see him?". He was willing to admit that it maybe hadn't even been in the top ten, but it had been up there. Somewhere.
Dean's weak and raspy voice pulled Sam's full attention back to him. "Gotta get movin'."
Sam shook his head and wrapped his hands around the rail of the bed. "Not until you're ready, no. We're good here."
Dean looked even more confused, so Sam explained.
"Did you know Bobby grew up in Laramie?" Dean shook his head. "Yeah, neither did I. But apparently, he did. And he's still got friends here. One of those friends is an ER doctor." Dean's tired smile returned. "Another is the sheriff, who goes hunting with Bobby sometimes. So you take your time."
"Sheriff?" Dean's eyes widened, and Sam knew what he was worried about.
"Joe was here when we got back," Sam said softly. "He was waiting for us to wake up."
"Didn' hurt you?" Exhaustion, pain, and drugs made Dean's words slur together, but Sam didn't care. At that moment, he thought Dean's voice was the most fantastic sound he'd ever heard.
"No, he didn't hurt me. Or you. He just wanted to know our names."
"D'ja kill him?" Dean asked sadly.
Sam smiled when he shook his head that time. "I didn't have to," he said. "He helped me bring you here, and I found him somewhere to live."
"S'vamp..."
"Lenore," Sam interrupted. "She came and got him two days ago. He's going to live with them, work on getting his bloodlust under control. Lenore thinks he's strong enough to do it."
Dean looked surprised at that, and Sam shrugged.
"You were right about him, Dean. Joe Edwards was a damn good man. And it turns out he still is one." He reached into the pocket of the coat that hung across the back of the chair - still the one he'd bought in Laramie, even though he'd changed back into his own clothes days ago - and pulled out the silver knife. "He kept this all these years, because he wanted to give it back to you." He held it up for Dean to see before he slipped it under the pillow. "Thought you might want it."
Dean grinned briefly before he shifted in the bed and tried to sit up, but he fell back into his pillow with a gasp. Sam pressed his hand against his chest to keep him from trying again.
"Will you stop?" he said. "You rip those stitches out, you're gonna be in a world of hurt."
"M'okay."
Sam shook his head vigorously. "No, Dean. You're really not. Do you even know how close you came to... ?"
He couldn't finish asking the question, because he knew the answer. Knew that Dean's heart had stopped more than once on the operating table. Knew how close he'd come to losing his brother forever.
"S'okay, Sammy," Dean said. When Sam didn't answer him, he continued. "Y'okay? Y'hurt?"
Sam huffed in disbelief and annoyance. One time, just one time, he wanted Dean to focus on his own needs and let Sam take care of himself. Without arguing about it.
"I'm fine," he answered. "You're the one that's hurt."
Dean's eyes started to drift closed, and Sam could tell that he forced them back open.
"Wizard real?"
"Yeah, he was." Sam couldn't help but smile fondly as he thought back on his acquaintance with Samuel Colt. There was so much that he wanted to tell Dean, but he knew that he couldn't. Things had obviously worked out the way they were meant to, just like Colt had said they would. Sam had no intention of messing things up.
"Turned out that us being there was an accident, but he sent us home."
"How'd we get out?"
"Joe helped me keep the vamps away from you. That's when he..." Sam swallowed hard. No matter that he knew it had to happen, he didn't think he'd ever forget that Joe had been turned while protecting them. And from the look on his face, Dean would never forgive himself for it, either.
"Anyway, he held them off long enough for the wizard to work his spell." It was true, even if it wasn't the full story. As much as he wanted to tell him, Sam knew that Dean probably wouldn't want to hear the truth about why and how the Colt had been made. But that gun had been created for the sole purpose of saving Dean's life, it had done it twice more since then, and Sam had a feeling that it would do it again.
For that alone, he would be forever grateful to Samuel Colt.
Dean was trying to sit up again, and Sam stopped him by putting his hand back on his arm.
"Stop, Dean. Go to sleep. We can talk when you're stronger. I'm not going anywhere."
Dean nodded slowly, stopped fighting the exhaustion and the effects of the drugs, and let his eyes fall closed. It was only a matter of seconds before he was asleep.
Sam sighed as he sat back down in his chair to watch over Dean, and he found himself left alone with his thoughts again. One thought haunted him more than any other, and it was the one he kept returning to.
If he and Dean ever found themselves in the same position as Jim and Joe Edwards, how would they react? If he became the monster that they both feared he would some day, would he hide it from Dean so they could stay together, like Jim had done? Would he try to bring Dean down with him, or would he be able to let him go? Or if something happened, if Sam ended up dead and Dean was left behind, would he lose his will to live, like Joe had? Would he blame himself for it, let something in the dark take him, or would he do his damndest to end it himself?
If they ever lost each other, would either one of them be able to go on alone?
Sam didn't know the answer to that question, and he could only hope that they never found out.
~ fin ~
Epilogue
It was the fourth time Dean had woken up since Sam and Joe had carried him through the doors of the emergency room at Ivinson Memorial Hospital three days earlier. It was the fourth time he'd opened his eyes and looked around for vampires before he looked for Sam. It was the fourth time he'd tried to push himself up from the bed, pulled at the stitches in his side, and ended up hurting himself.
Sam didn't think Dean remembered the first three.
"Hey," Sam said softly. He stepped closer to the bed and wrapped his hand around Dean's arm to calm him. "It's okay. They're gone."
Dean turned his head and looked up at him, his eyes glassy from both pain and pain relievers.
"You're in the hospital. You got shot, remember?"
Dean nodded slowly, but still looked uncertain.
"Hunting accident in the mountains. With an antique Winchester rifle."
The side of Dean's mouth curled in a tired smile. "S'ironic."
That had been one of Sam's first thoughts, after the surgeon - who was apparently a gun buff - told him what kind of bullet he'd pulled out of Dean's abdomen. It hadn't been the first question; that had been, "Is my brother alive?". It hadn't been the second or the third, either. Those were, "Is my brother going to be all right?" and "When can I see him?". He was willing to admit that it maybe hadn't even been in the top ten, but it had been up there. Somewhere.
Dean's weak and raspy voice pulled Sam's full attention back to him. "Gotta get movin'."
Sam shook his head and wrapped his hands around the rail of the bed. "Not until you're ready, no. We're good here."
Dean looked even more confused, so Sam explained.
"Did you know Bobby grew up in Laramie?" Dean shook his head. "Yeah, neither did I. But apparently, he did. And he's still got friends here. One of those friends is an ER doctor." Dean's tired smile returned. "Another is the sheriff, who goes hunting with Bobby sometimes. So you take your time."
"Sheriff?" Dean's eyes widened, and Sam knew what he was worried about.
"Joe was here when we got back," Sam said softly. "He was waiting for us to wake up."
"Didn' hurt you?" Exhaustion, pain, and drugs made Dean's words slur together, but Sam didn't care. At that moment, he thought Dean's voice was the most fantastic sound he'd ever heard.
"No, he didn't hurt me. Or you. He just wanted to know our names."
"D'ja kill him?" Dean asked sadly.
Sam smiled when he shook his head that time. "I didn't have to," he said. "He helped me bring you here, and I found him somewhere to live."
"S'vamp..."
"Lenore," Sam interrupted. "She came and got him two days ago. He's going to live with them, work on getting his bloodlust under control. Lenore thinks he's strong enough to do it."
Dean looked surprised at that, and Sam shrugged.
"You were right about him, Dean. Joe Edwards was a damn good man. And it turns out he still is one." He reached into the pocket of the coat that hung across the back of the chair - still the one he'd bought in Laramie, even though he'd changed back into his own clothes days ago - and pulled out the silver knife. "He kept this all these years, because he wanted to give it back to you." He held it up for Dean to see before he slipped it under the pillow. "Thought you might want it."
Dean grinned briefly before he shifted in the bed and tried to sit up, but he fell back into his pillow with a gasp. Sam pressed his hand against his chest to keep him from trying again.
"Will you stop?" he said. "You rip those stitches out, you're gonna be in a world of hurt."
"M'okay."
Sam shook his head vigorously. "No, Dean. You're really not. Do you even know how close you came to... ?"
He couldn't finish asking the question, because he knew the answer. Knew that Dean's heart had stopped more than once on the operating table. Knew how close he'd come to losing his brother forever.
"S'okay, Sammy," Dean said. When Sam didn't answer him, he continued. "Y'okay? Y'hurt?"
Sam huffed in disbelief and annoyance. One time, just one time, he wanted Dean to focus on his own needs and let Sam take care of himself. Without arguing about it.
"I'm fine," he answered. "You're the one that's hurt."
Dean's eyes started to drift closed, and Sam could tell that he forced them back open.
"Wizard real?"
"Yeah, he was." Sam couldn't help but smile fondly as he thought back on his acquaintance with Samuel Colt. There was so much that he wanted to tell Dean, but he knew that he couldn't. Things had obviously worked out the way they were meant to, just like Colt had said they would. Sam had no intention of messing things up.
"Turned out that us being there was an accident, but he sent us home."
"How'd we get out?"
"Joe helped me keep the vamps away from you. That's when he..." Sam swallowed hard. No matter that he knew it had to happen, he didn't think he'd ever forget that Joe had been turned while protecting them. And from the look on his face, Dean would never forgive himself for it, either.
"Anyway, he held them off long enough for the wizard to work his spell." It was true, even if it wasn't the full story. As much as he wanted to tell him, Sam knew that Dean probably wouldn't want to hear the truth about why and how the Colt had been made. But that gun had been created for the sole purpose of saving Dean's life, it had done it twice more since then, and Sam had a feeling that it would do it again.
For that alone, he would be forever grateful to Samuel Colt.
Dean was trying to sit up again, and Sam stopped him by putting his hand back on his arm.
"Stop, Dean. Go to sleep. We can talk when you're stronger. I'm not going anywhere."
Dean nodded slowly, stopped fighting the exhaustion and the effects of the drugs, and let his eyes fall closed. It was only a matter of seconds before he was asleep.
Sam sighed as he sat back down in his chair to watch over Dean, and he found himself left alone with his thoughts again. One thought haunted him more than any other, and it was the one he kept returning to.
If he and Dean ever found themselves in the same position as Jim and Joe Edwards, how would they react? If he became the monster that they both feared he would some day, would he hide it from Dean so they could stay together, like Jim had done? Would he try to bring Dean down with him, or would he be able to let him go? Or if something happened, if Sam ended up dead and Dean was left behind, would he lose his will to live, like Joe had? Would he blame himself for it, let something in the dark take him, or would he do his damndest to end it himself?
If they ever lost each other, would either one of them be able to go on alone?
Sam didn't know the answer to that question, and he could only hope that they never found out.
~ fin ~