His body lay broken from the crash. Not only had the wounds from the fight with the yellow-eyed demon been crippling as they were, but they put him in a coma. Or was this actually all a trick of the fiend?

He'd heard of out-of-body experiences. His dad always said they were natural when someone had a lot of contact with the supernatural. It made their souls restless and more aware than their bodies. They sought to detach themselves to they could move around in an astral form. It was the common explanation for ghosts. Interactions between the material and astral needed either charged objects like Ouija to play conduit, or something of personal connection to the detached.

He did not enjoy seeing himself like this, a subject like those he used to read about. After a few moments, he had to walk away from looking at his body and all those tubes. It was off-putting, to say the least. In his throat, he could actually still feel something there, like the endotracheal. He didn't need to breathe. Something else filled his nonexistent spirit lungs. The machine was breathing for his body. His soul still felt it. That was good, he was still tethered, not totally detached.

The one thing he missed all of a sudden was having a pulse. His astral self had no feeling of hot or cold, and it had no signs of living. The beeping monitor at his body's bedside was the only thing he could be sure of. His hand passes through his own chest when he tries to touch it.

"Damn it..."

He could feel the scar on his head though, as well as the stitches where his skin split open. And on his chest and face were the other gashes and bruises from the night's ordeal.

Sam was standing next to him, but he didn't look that much better with that broken nose and the slashes on his face. He looked like the world had been yanked out from beneath his feet. Dean could relate.

"...Sam, I'm here..."

But he said that partly to reassure himself. It was hard to say, when he was practically a ghost.

Things were downhill and they only got worse.

Dad was being his usual unreasonable self, keeping his secrets. Sam was already on the end of his rope, and he just met dad's voice with his own.

The Colt.

Summoning the demon.

Some thing haunting the hospital in addition to all the other ghosts.

Dean couldn't stand it either. After all he'd done to protect Sam as his dad had told him when their mom died. But his dad wasn't doing anything yet. He wasn't going to do anything. Sam was running his legs to the bone and his dad hadn't called a single soul. He was just... watching him die.

That was more than even he could take. So he lashed out too, and sent the water glass nearby toppling off the table. It landed and shattered on the floor, droplets spilling everywhere. That got their attention.

But a sudden sensation was sent rippling through his body. He had to sit down on the floor. It felt hard to move suddenly, to do anything. The pain was centered in his dead chest.

Down the hall, there was some commotion. Dad pauses the argument and resignedly tells Sam to go check out the scene. His brother pales when he sees its from Dean's room. Dean drags his feet a bit to follow, and he blanches as well.

In his room, it was code blue chaos.

The doctor was furiously pumping at his chest. A nurse nearby was bagging him. Another nurse squeezed one of the IV bags after injecting some fluids into the port tube in his arm. He could feel their efforts somewhat. Pain from the compression, his chest expanding from the manual bagging, and the vague feeling of something entering his body. But still, a different pain was radiating above all sensations. It made his vision zap, and his very soul seemed to be on the verge of fading. The monitor's beep was long and unending.

He was dying.

"Charging to 300!"

The doctor grabs the defibrillation paddles after conducting another set of chest compressions. Sweat beaded his brow as the nurse squirted the jelly onto the device and he rubbed them together. The nurse then patted down the adhesive pads on Dean's exposed torso.

"Clear!"

The pads touched his body and the joules shot through. His body didn't dramatically arc like in films. It twitched a bit. But to his astral self, it was much more. He gave a slight grunt of pain and fell to one knee. It felt like two daggers where thrust into his side and chest.

"Asystole."

"Damn!"

The fibrillation was lost. The doctor resumes CPR.

Sam stood as if in a nightmare, helpless. All he could do was murmur "No..."

As Dean picked himself up, he saw it again. A pale figure poised above his body. It hovered and wore the clothing of eld in rags with white, stringy hair. Outstretched were its bony hands towards Dean's body. Like a horror film, it came closer and closer. Nobody else seemed to see it.

"Hey, GET AWAY FROM MY BODY!"

He scrambles for the apparition. At his voice, the thing turns its head to look at him dead in the eyes. He freezes.

The thing had a human-like face, but it was withered and wrinkled like a mummy. The eyes and mouth were like sunken abysses of darkness. And most disturbingly of all, it suddenly cracked a freakish grin.

"FOUND YOU!"

Before he could react, it swoops for him and catches his throat in its cold, bony hand. Dean never thought he'd felt anything so freaking cold. The grip was like iron, and he struggled an fought against that thing and its putrid gaze. His hands fumbled on that unmoving hand and pulled at its robes. But it would not budge.

He didn't need to breathe. But this thing's touch was somehow draining him all the same of strength. A creature which brings death... A reaper... And he was utterly powerless to stop it from taking him.

"Relax..."

He choked as he tried to spit out some rebuttal. His vision was zapping out uncontrollably, as were his hands, like he was a bad static image.

"Sam... Sam..." That was all he could manage.

That haggard, wrinkly face smiled and breathed over him. The chill from the breath made his eyes roll into the back of his head.

His hand finally loosens and dangles at his side before his astral form began to disappear in the reaper's grasp.

The monitor whined in its continuous BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP.

"... I'm calling it."

Sam's face fell by even more degrees, "What...?"

The doctor stops compressions and the nurse disconnects the tube.

"Time of death..."