Carry On My Wayward SonMature

"In this line of work, death isn't always goodbye." -Sam Winchester to Claire Novak, season 10 episode 20, 'Angel Heart'.

*Flashback, told in 3rd person*

     Sam's melancholy expression seemed contagious around the trio of men. Although, Castiel never really displayed a wide array of emotions. Dean and the angel wrapped Garrett's body, while Sam stood with Isabella's in his arms. Once Garrett's body was wrapped, Dean himself set it carefully atop the funeral pyre. Throwing gasoline onto the wood, he stepped back. Castiel lit a match, tossing it onto the pyre, lighting it ablaze. Castiel walked over, directly in front of Sam.

"May I?" The angel asked, gesturing towards Isabella's body.

"S-Sure..." Sam whispered, handing her over.

"Sam, how many times have we had to do this?" Dean let out a despondent sigh.

"Once we did dad's, I didn't care to begin counting." The taller of the brothers responded, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"You know... He may have been a dick to Izzy at times, and I didn't know him that long, but I think I know what she saw in him." Dean looked on in sorrow as the body wrappings began to catch fire.

     The brothers didn't speak much more, just stood and watched Garrett's body being taken by the flames. Footsteps approached, and Castiel returned to them, Isabella's body still in his arms. Her stab wound had the fabric around it torn off, and was encrusted with dried blood, the puncture wound barely visible. Sam looked down at her body, and his eyes widened. Isabella's skin had gone from the dead pale, to a light ivory.

"Cas? What'd you do?" Sam asked, taking Isabella from the angel.

"She'll be fine. Get her to a hospital, immediately." The angel placed either hand on each of the Winchester's foreheads, teleporting them.

*2 days later, Isabella's POV*

     God damnit, I'd fallen asleep again. Was it for hours? Or days this time? Who knows. I sat up, looking around to find myself in a hospital bed. Looking down at my body once I stood, I sighed at the horrendous clothes I'd been put in. A white shirt with light blue pants, and no shoes. Walking out of my room, I began searching for anyone that I found familiar. Strangely enough, the hospital halls I'd walked down were empty. Visiting hours must be over, I suppose. No... It was still light outside.

     Wincing as I walked down the stairs, I smiled to myself to find a counter with a receptionist behind the open window. Thankfully walking over, I rested my arm on the counter.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for some people. I can't remember how I got here, could you help me?" I asked, but the woman paid me no mind.

"Hey? Ma'am?" I snapped my fingers, but she still didn't cast me so much a glance. I started to walk away, when the double doors opened, revealing Sam walking through them.

"Sam! I'm so glad you're here!" I smiled, running over to him.

"Miss, I need the room number of Anna Berkovitz. She would've been admitted about 2 days ago by my brother and friend." Sam pleaded with the receptionist, and I smiled at my code name.

"Sammy, I'm right here. Why're you asking to see me?" I scoffed, trying to get his attention.

"Sir, visiting hours have not yet begun for the day. I'm going to have to ask you to leave or wait in the lobby." The woman looked up at Sam for a few seconds, and back to her computer.

"You don't understand, this is urgent." Sam reached into his pocket, pulling out a Benjamin Franklin and sliding it onto the counter.

"Room 312, 4th floor." The receptionist took the money, closing her sliding glass window.

     Sam barreled off up the stairs, me trailing closely behind. Why was he ignoring me? I'm right there, there's no need to bribe the lady if I'm standing right next to him. Once we'd finally reached my room, I stopped at the door as my eyes widened in shock. Sam walked to the other edge of the bed, the one facing the room door. There I lay, motionless and unconscious on my bed. I walked over to the side across from Sammy, watching his distressed face.

"Izzy, Cas said you would be okay. He hasn't wronged us so far, so if you hear this, we won't give up on you." Sam sniffled, wiping away a tear.

"Thank you, Sammy..." I whispered, now looking at my unconscious body.

     There was a long tube going down my throat, that had plastic connectors on my face, and smaller tubes through my nose. Several IV's were stuck into my arms, liquid slowly draining into my body. I closed my eyes, trying to wrap my head around what was happening. When I'd opened them, fluttering wings was heard, and Castiel appeared in the room.

"Cas? Why're you here?" Sam turned, facing the angel.

"I received a prayer." Cas simply stated, tilting his head to the side.

"I didn't pray to you." Sam shrugged, putting his hands in his jacket pocket.

"The message contained urgency and hope. Almost like a scene by a Princess from one of your most popular visual pleasures." Cas stared at my body with his same lost puppy look.

"Cas... Are you talking about Star Wars?" Sam laughed, allowing himself to smile.

"Dean and I had a movie night." He simply stated, continuing to examine my body.

     The two continued to stare at my unconscious frame in the bed. Concern on Sam's face, and whatever feeling Cas was hiding. Sam was beginning to leave when Dean entered the room, carrying bags of food.

"Dean? What're you doing here?" Sam asked, bringing chairs over to the small table in the corner of the room.

"Same reason as you, Sammy. Plus you wouldn't answer your phone, so I figured you'd be here." Dean laughed as he sat down, reaching for his food in the bag.

"Paint." Castiel muttered, before disappearing with the sound of fluttering wings.

"So, how you been holding up?" Dean asked, taking a few bites of his pie.

"I'm alright. Finally getting to see her is great, thought. After Garrett's death, though... I'm glad she wasn't conscious for that." Sam unwrapped his breakfast burrito, taking a bite out of it.

"Garrett's...dead..." I whispered, dropping to my knees. I began to cry softly, memories now flooding back like a tidal wave.

"Hey, Sammy? Did you turn the thermostat down?" Dean asked, looking around the room curiously.

"No, it's set on 67." Sam responded, cautiously sipping his coffee.

"Why's it feel like it's 30?" The brothers then got up, leaving the room.

     As I laid curled up on the hospital floor, I thought over Dean's question about the drastic temperature difference. Right... Isabella, you dunce! You're a spirit now! In the presence of a ghost, they have the ability to lower the temperature or raise it to their liking. I sighed, standing. Deciding to do more than just huddle in my room, I decided to explore. I went down to the cafeteria and people watched, listening in on different conversations as to why they in particular were there.

     People watching as a spirit was just a tad more entertaining than if I'd done it in my actual body. As I was sitting on the stairs, I heard screaming from a floor above me. Rushing up the steps, I found a boy just a tad younger than me running through the halls frantically. I began chasing after him, finally catching up.

"Why can't you talk to me?! What'd I do?! Someone, please!" He pleaded, screaming in the faces of doctors and nurses.

"Hey, wait. Can you see me?" I yelled, causing the boy to turn around.

"Y-Yeah, who're you?" He asked, walking over to me, slightly calmer.

"I'm Isabella. What's your name?" I forced a weak smile at the boy.

"Alexander. Alexander Cyr." His shaggy brown hair barely touching his ears.

"What the hell's going on?" Alexander asked, starting to freak out again.

"I have an idea. Do you know where your room is?" He simply nodded, walking off with me following behind.

     We climbed a few flights of stairs, just a couple above mine. The last room on that floor at the corner is where Alexander lead me. Slowly opening the door, who I assumed was his mother sat in a chair, holding his limp hand in her palm. He stood behind her, placing a palm on her back. Of course, she couldn't feel it, but I didn't want to ruin the moment.

"I just came in for my last round of chemo. My hair has been growing back slowly, and I was pretty proud." He weakly smiled, turning to stand by me.

"Alexander, have you ever heard of out-of-body experiences?" I asked, walking out of his room with intent on going to mine.

"Like in the movies?" He asked, and I smiled at his innocence.

"Sort of. You see, if that's what I think is happening than we're spiri-" I was cut off, my hand reaching to my chest in pain.

"Isabella?!" Alexander dropped down to his knees, as my spirit began to flicker and I disappeared from the boy's side.

     When I finally stopped feeling the pain, I stood up and realized I was in my room. The heart monitor was flatlining, and nurses were rushing it, 6 or 8 filled the room, all crowding around my bed. Sam and Dean came back in, both of them screaming, but the doctors holding them back.

"Izzy!" Sam yelled, Dean holding him back.

"No, no no... Come on..." I whispered, before noticing a creature hovering over my bed.

     The nurses continued to perform CPR, when I felt an awkward chill rush through me. Whipping my head around, I looked back and saw a spirit type creature hovering over my body, placing its hand on my head. I raced over to pull it off, but was thrown violently against a wall, causing whatever it was to screech and disappear. My heart monitor began again, and the nurses all sighed in relief as well as Sam and Dean.

     The nurses all filed out of the room as Sam and Dean rounded the bed to sit in the floor at the end of it. Sam dug into a backpack he'd brought in, pulling out a ouija board. I sighed in annoyance, sitting down on the opposite side of the board, across from Sam. Dean looked away, obviously either annoyed or embarrassed.

"Izzy? Are you here?" Sam asked aloud, placing his hands on the planchette.

"Dammit, Sam. This isn't a slumber party." I retorted, sliding the planchette towards 'yes'.

"O-Oh, Izzy, it's so amazing to hear from you." I admired Sam's relief, watching Dean crouch down beside him. I began moving the piece over letters.

"H-U-N-T" I spelled out, looking at Sam who seemed confused, but Dean caught on.

"Hunt? As in hunting? What're you hunting?" Dean asked, looking closer at the board.

"Well, I know it's not killing..." I muttered, spelling out R-E-A-P.

"The Reaper." Sam whispered, sitting up from the floor and going to his bag.

     Sam brought out sets of blankets and pillows, making a pallet next to my bed. Dean left the room to do research on ways to get me out, since they'd already been through this deal once. The night went on, and I sat on top of the table in my room, watching as Sam tried to fight off sleep, the flashlight he was using to read, slipping from his hand. He finally decided to give up, curling under the thin blankets he'd packed. Walking down the hall, I grabbed a spare blanket from a closet and walked back to my room.

     When I walked in, Sam was already fast asleep. I unfolded the blanket, tossing it over the sleeping boy. I sat next to him, thankful he couldn't see me as I watched him sleep peacefully. Dean re-entered the room with the laptop, setting up his place at the table. He took one look at Sam, and smiled.

"Damn, now it's hot as Crowley's basement in here." I chuckled at Dean's comment, looking back at the sleeping Sam.



The End

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