Supernatural - Chapter 47: May 3 (Patreon)

Murphy had not had such a quiet dream in a very long time.

No gunshots broke the silence. There were no low, menacing growls from hellhounds, and her body was free of pain. She stood in a room she knew well. The curtains were half closed, a computer still glowed on the desk, and beside it lay a few things she had once set down without thinking and never touched again.

Murphy gazed around, bewildered.

It looked like her old home.

The realization rose slowly, as though surfacing through deep water. She tried to approach the desk for a closer look, but her feet felt weightless. She could not even tell whether she was moving.

The silence in the room was so complete that it unsettled her.

After standing there for a while, she became aware of an odd feeling.

Something was missing.

There was still something she needed to do, someone waiting for her. Yet she could not hold on to the thought. Everything remained frustratingly vague.

A voice seemed to ask her a question from very far away. She could not distinguish the words, only a faint impression that someone was asking whether she wanted to return.

Return? Where was she supposed to return to?

She considered that sluggishly. Was she not already here?

Still, the sense that something was wrong kept growing.

All at once, she grew anxious.

No.

The thought appeared without warning.

She could not explain why, but she knew she must not simply remain here.

She had left something behind. Something terribly important.

A faint noise came from somewhere in the distance.

“Murphy.”

She spun around.

The room was empty. There was nobody there.

The voice came again, a little clearer this time, though still far away.

“Murphy.”

Murphy started toward the sound without thinking. The familiar room began to dissolve before her eyes. Desk, computer, curtains, everything was swallowed by an ever-thickening mist.

Alarmed, she tried to walk faster.

Do not leave. Wait for her. She still had something to show them.

And there was still...

White light suddenly descended from overhead.

In the next instant, pain flooded back into her body.

Murphy managed to open her eyes for a moment.

Strange faces and painfully bright lights swam into view. Someone bent over her and called to her. Someone else appeared to be examining something. She wanted to speak, but her throat was so dry it hurt, and not a sound came out.

Then she sank back into unconsciousness.

...

Only after the operating room doors shut did Dean notice that his hands were trembling.

He had washed most of the blood away.

The hospital staff had sent him to clean up, but dark red stains remained between his fingers and around his wrists. No matter how hard he scrubbed, he could still feel the smell of blood clinging to him.

He stared at his hands for a while before curling them into fists.

Sam sat beside him.

His injuries had been treated as well. His lower back had been bandaged again, and the blood beneath his nose was gone.

The headache that had started when he threw Lilith across the room still had not fully subsided. He looked unusually pale and leaned back against the chair, seeming vulnerable in a way he rarely did.

Bobby had a more visible injury to his leg.

The hellhound had bitten deep, though fortunately the teeth had missed the bone. The doctor had insisted on treating the wound, leaving him to hobble around on a borrowed crutch. Now he sat nearby, looking ready to take his grievance straight to Hell.

None of them was in the mood to talk.

People occasionally passed through the corridor beneath the glaring white lights. Dean had waited in hospital hallways before, and he had never liked it.

He had lost track of time when Sam finally spoke. “Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“Back there...”

Sam barely needed to begin. Dean already knew what he meant.

The force that had flung Lilith from one wall to another and almost dragged the demon out of its host.

Dean turned to his brother. “Do you have any idea what happened?”

Sam shook his head. He was afraid to examine it too closely.

“I just...” He frowned, struggling to remember. “Murphy went down, and everybody was in trouble. I wanted Lilith to stop. Then she went flying.”

Even to Sam, what followed felt impossible.

Lilith had been pinned to the wall, just as Sam himself had been before. Black smoke was slowly being pulled out of the possessed body.

The power had come from him, yet he had no idea how he might call on it again.

Dean fell silent for a while. Eventually, he decided to leave the question alone for now.

Normally, if Sam suddenly developed enough power to overpower Lilith herself, they would have investigated until they found out why. But the operating room light was still on. None of them could spare a thought for anything else.

“We can talk when Murphy wakes up.”

Sam studied Dean, then followed his gaze to the closed doors of the operating room. His chest tightened. After a long moment, he answered softly, “Okay.”

Bobby had listened without interrupting. They could look into Sam’s new power whenever they wanted. Right now, all any of them wanted was for those doors to open and someone to bring them good news.

The operation lasted for hours.

Murphy had lost an enormous amount of blood before reaching the hospital. Deep tears ran along her side, shoulder, and back. A doctor came out once to ask about any existing conditions or medication allergies, then told them the operation was still underway.

Dean barely absorbed the rest. The doctor said they had not yet found the worst complications, and that was all he managed to remember. Unfortunately, the word “yet” was enough to keep him on edge.

They waited until daylight had filled the world outside.

When the doors finally opened again, Dean was on his feet at once.

Sam stood just as quickly. The movement pulled at his injured lower back and drained the color from his face, but he did not stop.

Bobby braced himself on his crutch. All three men stared at the doctor and waited for him to speak.

This time, thankfully, the news was good.

The operation had gone well. The deep wound in Murphy’s side had narrowly missed the most dangerous organs and major blood vessels. The injuries to her shoulder and back had been treated too.

Her two broken ribs would need time to mend. The blood loss was under control for now, although the doctors would continue watching for internal bleeding, infection, and other complications.

Dean stopped following the details halfway through.

Only one thing mattered. Murphy was alive.

At last, the tension holding them upright gave way. Sam bowed his head and scrubbed at his face. Bobby leaned heavily on his crutch, let out a long breath, and muttered hoarsely, “I knew that girl was tough.”

Dean said nothing.

He sat down again and buried his face in his hands. Standing up had seemed easy enough a moment ago. Now every bit of strength drained out of him, and his shoulders slowly sagged.

A long time passed before he could finally let out a breath.

...

Murphy drifted in and out of consciousness after surgery.

The doctor said she had opened her eyes briefly once and reacted to voices and pain before falling asleep again.

After so much blood loss and such a long operation, her body was exhausted. The pain medication had not worn off either, so there was nothing unusual about her condition for the moment.

Dean refused to count that as waking up.

She needed to open her eyes, recognize them, and preferably complain about him a little. Only then would it feel as though Murphy had really returned.

They spent almost the entire remainder of May 2 at the hospital.

A nurse eventually took Sam away to have his injuries checked again. Bobby could no longer manage on his wounded leg and was sent off to rest for a few hours.

When Sam returned, he and Dean claimed the two chairs beside Murphy’s bed. When exhaustion became unbearable, they dozed sitting up. Every visit from a nurse or noise from the monitor seemed to wake them again.

Now that Murphy had been cleaned up, she looked far less alarming than when they first brought her in. Thick dressings covered her side, shoulder, and back. An IV ran into the back of her hand, and there was still little color in her face.

Murphy could be quiet, but Dean had never seen her so unresponsive. The longer he watched, the harder it was to believe she would not open her eyes any second and tell them to stop making so much noise.

Yet she slept quietly all through the night.

When Sam finally checked his phone, he realized midnight had already passed.

May 3.

The date stirred a memory and drove away his sleepiness. He looked up at the bed. Dean followed his gaze and understood almost immediately.

A few days earlier, Murphy had told them to leave May 3 free.

She had a secret.

Sam had tried several times to coax it out of her, with no success. Now the day had come, and they were sitting in a hospital without the faintest idea when the person keeping the secret would wake up.

“So what was she planning?” Sam whispered.

Dean did not know. He took Murphy’s hand, avoiding the one with the IV. Her palm had warmed back to its normal temperature. Last night it had been frighteningly cold.

“She can tell us when she wakes up.”

...

By the afternoon of May 3, Murphy was finally awake enough to know what was happening.

A steady electronic beeping reached her first. It was not particularly loud, but its endless repetition irritated her.

She tried to shift into a more comfortable position. The smallest movement sent pain through her side, shoulder, and back, driving away what little sleepiness remained.

She stopped moving immediately.

It hurt badly enough that she could guess where she was without opening her eyes.

She rested for a while with her eyes closed. Fragments of the previous night began to come back.

The hellhounds. Lilith. Dean stepping beyond the protective line. The contract moving of its own accord. She remembered the contract breaking, the sudden stabbing pain in her side, then the ceiling of Baby swaying above her as Sam kept calling her name.

She thought she had even found his voice irritating. After that, there was nothing.

Murphy slowly opened her eyes. A white hospital ceiling appeared above her, just as she had expected. Mostly, she was impressed that she was still alive to see one.

She turned her eyes to the side and found Dean slumped beside her bed.

One of his hands held hers. His forehead rested on his other arm, and he seemed to have fallen fast asleep from exhaustion.

His hair was a complete mess, stubble covered his chin, and he was still wearing yesterday’s clothes, with the bloodstains only partly cleaned off.

Sam looked even more miserable on the other side. His long legs barely fit around the little hospital chair, leaving him sleeping at a crooked angle against the wall. With his injured lower back, there was no way that position was comfortable. Even in sleep, his brow remained furrowed.

Murphy studied them in silence. Then, for the first time since waking, a clear thought formed.

Why did they both look so terrible?

Neither brother had gotten much sleep in the past twenty-four hours. All their usual energy seemed to have disappeared.

At least their faces were the same. They were still handsome.

She wanted to laugh. The instant her stomach muscles tightened, pain made her swallow it, and the fingers held in Dean’s hand stirred.

Dean woke almost immediately.

For a moment, he stared blearily ahead. Then he noticed Murphy watching him, and the last trace of sleep vanished.

“Murphy?”

His voice startled Sam awake too.

Sam jerked his head up from the wall and looked past Dean toward the bed. He was suddenly wide awake. In his haste, he almost knocked into the chair beside him, but he hardly noticed as he moved closer.

Having both brothers stare at her from either side was a little intimidating.

She had plenty of questions, but as soon as she opened her mouth, she discovered how dry and painful her throat was. All she managed to croak was, “Water...”

Sam immediately reached for the glass beside her bed. Dean remembered the nurse’s instructions and stopped him. “Hang on. Ask the nurse first.”

Murphy stared at the glass, so close and yet being put out of reach again. She opened and closed her mouth like a fish stranded on land.

Fortunately, the nurse came quickly to examine her.

Murphy was too drained to care what the examination involved. She answered the questions put to her and thought of nothing but when she would be allowed to drink.

Once the nurse was satisfied, Murphy could finally wet her lips and then take a few careful sips.

That tiny mouthful of water nearly brought tears to her eyes.

By the time the nurse left, the examination had used up almost all of Murphy’s remaining energy. Sam sat down again, saw that her color looked reasonably normal, and finally asked, “How do you feel?”

“Sore,” Murphy replied without hesitation.

After a moment, she looked at the two men watching over her and finally said the thing she had been thinking since she woke up. “You two look awful.”

Sam stared at her, then laughed. With the lack of sleep and his bloodshot eyes, his smile only made him look more exhausted.

They had spent so long waiting for Murphy to wake up that Dean had not expected her first concern to be their appearance. He could not decide whether to laugh or be annoyed.

Murphy considered her observation completely fair. “Still handsome, though.”

That finally made Dean laugh. He reached down and touched her hair. “Thanks. You look fantastic too.”

Murphy eyed him suspiciously.

She had no mirror, but after losing so much blood, undergoing surgery, and spending a full day in bed, she could imagine what she looked like.

“Liar.”

“You only just figured that out?”

Murphy was too tired to argue.

Sam listened from the other side, still smiling. Only now did it truly sink in that Murphy was awake and back with them.

After resting quietly for a moment, Murphy remembered something.

“What day is it?”

The brothers exchanged uncomfortable looks.

Sam finally answered. “May 3.”

Some of the fog lifted from Murphy’s mind immediately.

May 3.

Her eyes widened. For one brief moment, she forgot all about her injuries.

“My secret.”

Sam laughed despite himself. “You remember that?”

“Of course.”

How could she possibly forget?

She had been looking forward to this day ever since she bought the house. The keys had been ready for ages, and most of the things she wanted inside had been arranged. She had even imagined, more than once, which room she would show them first.

Now she could barely sit up, let alone take anyone to see the place.

It was incredibly frustrating.

“I was going to take you somewhere today.”

Dean recognized that she was still thinking about her plans. “Then we’ll go when you’re better.”

“How long?”

“Not today, that’s for sure.”

Murphy glanced down at herself.

Fair enough.

She fell silent, still disappointed. “But I picked May 3 on purpose.”

Dean kept hold of her hand. “Then we choose another day. If tomorrow is too soon, we’ll go next week. Or later, if we need to.”

He said it so casually that she froze for a moment.

In the past, every conversation about plans after May had been overshadowed by May 2, a date none of them had known whether Dean would survive.

But May 2 was behind them now. Dean sat beside her bed. Sam was safe on the other side. They could even talk about next week as though it were perfectly ordinary.

Suddenly, missing her planned date did not seem quite so terrible.

Besides, the house was not going anywhere.

“Fine,” she conceded at last. “We’ll postpone it.”

Sam had not forgotten the other question. “So you’re still not telling us your secret?”

“No.”

“Not even a hint?”

“Not one.”

Sam shook his head. “Even like this, you’re guarding it that carefully?”

Murphy looked baffled. “What does getting hurt have to do with keeping a secret?”

Dean burst out laughing.

Murphy turned toward him. He still looked as if he had not recovered from spending the night awake, but his expression was far easier than when she had first opened her eyes.

Sam looked much the same. His eyelids were drooping as he leaned back in his chair, yet a smile lingered on his face.

Looking at them, Murphy suddenly caught a faint image in her mind.

A familiar room, an oppressive silence, and someone calling her from very far away.

She frowned and tried to remember more. The image slipped away as quickly as a dream after waking. She could not even recall whether she had seen the room clearly, only that it had left an unsettling feeling.

Probably another dream brought on by the blood loss.

Murphy gave up trying to wring answers out of her still-foggy brain and turned back to the brothers.

“Why don’t you two find actual beds and get some rest? There are doctors and nurses here. I’ll be fine.”

Dean lifted an eyebrow. “Awake for five minutes and already ordering us around?”

“Because you both look exhausted.”

“Thought you just said we looked handsome.”

“You can look exhausted and handsome at the same time.”

Sam laughed from his side of the bed, but for once he did not join Dean in refusing to leave.

They really were ready to drop. Now that Murphy was awake, some of the tension had finally left them. If they insisted on staying, the nurses might soon have two more patients to look after.

Dean knew she was right, though leaving was clearly the last thing he wanted. He looked at the hand still held in his own. After a few seconds, he let it go and pulled the blanket a little higher around her.

“Call the nurse if you need anything.”

“I know.”

“And don’t just put up with it if something starts hurting badly.”

“I know.”

“One more thing...”

Murphy gave him a weary look. “Got it, Momma Dean.”

That finally silenced him.

The brothers slowly gathered their things. They reached the door together, only to stop.

Murphy thought they had something else to say, but after a while she realized they were simply looking back at her.

They took another step out, then glanced back again.

Dean was the worst. Even with his hand on the doorknob, he could not quite bring himself to close it.

Murphy felt both amused and helpless. The previous night must have frightened them even more than she realized.

She lifted the hand she could move freely, gave them a small wave, and closed her eyes as she settled into her pillow. The message could hardly be clearer.

I am going to sleep now. You can leave, all right?

Sam finally smiled. “Get some sleep.”

Dean watched for another couple of seconds to make sure she was only sleepy. Then he closed the door gently.

Once the hospital room fell silent, Murphy grew drowsy again almost at once.

She could not go anywhere today, and she was tired of keeping the house a secret.

Still, the keys were safe and the house would be waiting for her.

She could take them there as soon as she was able to get out of bed.

...

Author's Note:

Hey everyone! I've posted an important announcement on Patreon about major membership upgrades that benefit ALL members, with more early chapters at no extra cost for existing subscribers!

There's also a poll where you can vote for up to 3 fanfics to receive 10–30 extra early chapters exclusively for Hall of Supporters.

Voting is open for just 2 days!

The announcement and poll are pinned on my Patreon page. Don't miss out!