Good Times, Bad Times

08. Faith

"How damaged?" Sam questioned.

"We've done all we can. We can try and keep him comfortable at this point. But, I'd given him a couple weeks, at most, maybe a month."

"No, no. There's, there's... gotta be something you can do, some kind of treatment."

"We can't work miracles. I really am sorry."

Sam walked away, an upset look on his face. Susana's grip on her tissue tightened and she tried blinking away the tears.

They made their way to Dean's room.

Dean was watching TV as Sam entered. "Have you ever actually watched daytime TV? It's horrible."

Sam shook his head and sighed. "Susie and I talked to your doctor."

"That fabric softener teddy bear. Oh, I'm gonna hunt that little bitch down."

"Dean."

Dean looked up and clicked the TV off. "Yeah. All right, well, looks like you're gonna leave town without me."

Susana frowned. "What are you talking about? Sam and I aren't gonna leave you here."

Dean's tone turned serious. "Hey, you better take care of that car. Or, I swear, I'll haunt your ass."

"I don't think that's funny," Sam retorted. "And I don't think Susie does either."

"Oh, come on, it's a little funny." Dean paused a moment. "Look, Sammy, what can I say, man, it's a dangerous gig. I drew the short straw. That's it, end of story."

"Don't talk like that, all right? We still have options."

"What options? Yeah, burial or cremation. And I know it's not easy. But I'm gonna die. And you two can't stop it."

"Watch me," Sam and Susana challenged.

---

Sam and Susana made their way back to the motel room and started researching.

He dialed a number. "This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean. 866-907-3235. He can help."

Sam fought tears. "Hey, Dad. It's Sam. Uh... You probably won't even get this, but, uh... it's Dean. He's sick, and uh... the doctors say there's nothing they can do. Um... but, uh, they don't know the things we know, right? So, don't worry, 'cause I'm uh... gonna do whatever it takes to get him better. All right... just wanted you to know."

Sam hung up, tossed his phone on the bed and sat there silently. The was a knock on the door and he looked up quickly, tears in his eyes. Susana opened it to find Dean leaning against the jam, looking terrible.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sam and Susana asked.

"I checked myself out," Dean replied.

"What, are you crazy?" Sam said.

Dean entered the room, leaning on everything within reach. "Well, I'm not gonna die in a hospital where the nurses aren't even hot." He shrugged.

Sam huffed a laugh and shut the door. "You know, this whole I-laugh-in-the-face-of-death thing? It's crap. I can see right through it."

"Yeah, whatever, dude. Have you two even slept? You look worse than me."

Sam and Susana helped Dean to a chair. "We've been scouring the Internet for the last three days. Calling every contact in Dad's journal."

"For what?"

"For a way to help you," Susana explained. "One of Dad and John's friends, Joshua, he called us back. Told me about a guy in Nebraska. A specialist."