Sam x Reader

Everything was white. The walls, the tiled floor. Even the bed and the sheets were a bright white, almost blinding you, making you feel as if just a touch would soil them. Even Sam's face as he lay in the hospital bed was pale, almost white, so much different than the tanned handsome man you knew and loved.

The chair you were sitting in was the exception in the room. A pale blue chair that was uncomfortable to sit in. Not that you cared. Your stiff neck and aching back were nothing compared to the pain your heart was feeling.

Staring down at your husband, you couldn't believe this was actually happening. Sam was always so tough, so brave that something so little shouldn't have brought him down. He had fought so many monsters, gone to hell and back, but yet a simple infection had him hooked up to life support machines, his life in the fate of a god you weren't even sure cared.

His large body dwarfed the small hospital bed. The first day they had brought him in, they had to find a special hospital bed, one long enough for him. Seeing him laying there, so still, his skin ashen, you couldn't handle it. The first night you had found yourself racing from the room, needing to get a breath of fresh air before you collapsed and landed in a bed next to him.

Heading for the one place you had never expected to go, you sank down into a pew in the hospital's church. With tears in your eyes, you stared up at the cross above you, wondering why God wasn't there this time to save Sam. "Chuck, I know you're out there. Please, if you're listening, Sam's in a bad way. The doctors don't think he'll make it through the night. I need your help."

Waiting for something, some sort of sign, you slammed your fist down in frustration. "Chuck, why aren't you listening?" You screamed, just as an older couple walked into the small chapel, staring at you in concern. With a sigh, you left, heading straight back to the room, where Sam still laid, no better off than before.

A day later, and you hadn't moved from your spot in the chair. Your hand clasped his tightly, hating the feel of his cold, clammy skin underneath yours. If only you had known he wasn't feeling okay. That the simple cut he had received during your last hunt had gotten infected. But he hadn't given you any clues until it was too late. By the time he came up to you, shivering, wondering where Bobby was, the infection had traveled deep into his blood, causing confusion. Bobby had been dead for over a year, and it broke your heart to have Sam think he was still around.

Immediately you had half carried Sam to the car, watching in horror as his lips turned blue, and his large frame shook with chills. Placing your hand on his forehead, you couldn't believe how warm he was, and you drove faster than you had ever to get him to the hospital. The doctors had taken him from you, saying something about septic shock, and you waited, all alone.

Dean was gone, helping a friend on a hunt, but he left as soon as you called him. You wanted him by your side, hoped he made it in time if the worst happened. But you couldn't think about that, not yet. You wanted Sam to open his eyes, to see those brilliant hazel eyes once again. You wanted him to hold his arms out so you could wrap yourself in them. You needed him to be okay, even though the doctors just looked at you with pity in their eyes.

Forty-Eight hours later, the door crashed open, and Dean came racing into the room. His clothes were dirty and wrinkled, his face still carrying ash and grime from his ghost hunt. His eyes wide, he glanced between you and the bed, before sinking down in the other chair. "Anything change?" He asked you, running his hands through his hair.

"He's fading away." You whispered. Saying the words out loud made them seem real, and unyielding. Furiously trying to wipe away the tear that threatened to fall, you glanced down to where your hand clasped Sam's larger one, so still and unmoving. "Dean, I'm so scared."

Moving out of his chair, he grabbed you and pulled you into his arms. Dean was always like the brother you had never wanted, always there when you needed a friend. Having him hold you was a balm to the both of you, and you could feel the tears threatening to fall. "I am to kiddo. Sam's tough. He can fight this."

"I'm not so sure this time." You answered, moving to step back. "Dean, it doesn't look good."

"I know." He admitted, and you could see the pain in his eyes as he glanced down at his dying brother.

Sniffling back tears, you sat back down, grasping Sam's hand once again. Using your other to smooth the sheet down over his chest, wanting to keep as much contact with him as you could. Hoping that maybe he would feel it, and fight. "It's okay to cry." Dean mumbled, and you looked up to see tears of his own in his eyes.

"I can't." You answered. "I need to be strong, for him. He needs my support, not my tears."

Sighing, Dean sat down across the bed, grabbing Sam's other hand. The room turned silent as you stayed by Sam's side, offering him as much support as you could in this horrible time.

Hours passed, and you and Dean took turns getting coffee, or taking bathrooms breaks. Refusing to leave him alone. Dean took a break when the sun started setting, leaving you alone and exhausted with Sam. "Sam, I don't know if you can hear me." You started, needing to talk to him. Hoping that he would hear you and fight. "But please, you have to fight. I don't think I can do this without you. You've always been my rock, my reason for living. Dean and I will be lost without you."

Laying your head down on the bed, you closed your eyes for a second when Sam's hand clenched yours. Moving quicker than you ever had, you turned to see his eyes open. "Sam?" You breathed out.

"Hey sweetie." He gasped out, the attempt hard on him.

"I need to get Dean!" You exclaimed, but his hand squeezed yours.

"Y/N..." He sputtered, his words forced. "Love...you."

Saying those words, his eyes closed, the heart monitor beeping widely. Watching in shock as the doctor's rushed in, pushing you off to the side. Working hard, they tried to bring Sam back to you, but soon they gave up, pulling the sheet up over his head. "I'm so sorry." They muttered to you, leaving you to say your goodbyes just as Dean was able to enter the room once again.

"No!" He screamed, standing there, staring at his brother in horror.

"Dean..." You cried, and he crushed you to him, both of you grieving hard for the man laying lifelessly in the hospital bed. Wrapped in Dean's arms, wishing it was your husband's, you finally let the tears fall.