"When's Dad coming home?" Sam asked his older brother as Dean poured him some Lucky Charms. It had been the third day that their father hadn't come home and Sam was starting to get scared.
"He'll be coming home soon," Dean answered him, putting the cereal away and grabbing a bag of M he dropped himself onto the couch, bored. He grabbed the remote and turned on the TV; of course, the news was on. Normally Dean would have quickly changed the channel, but he wanted to make sure that he didn't see his father's face on the screen for any reason.
Luckily, after 10 minutes of meaningless news, Dean let out a sigh of relief and changed the channel. Thunder cats was on and that would occupy his time and hopefully Sam's until it was time for Sam to go to sleep.
"Dean, what is Dad doing?" Sam asked as he came to sit down with his cereal on the floor in front of the couch that Dean had occupied with his entire frame of body. Dean pretended not to hear Sam's question as he kept his eyes glued to the TV.
Sam's eyes locked onto his brother's face and waited. Dean could feel Sam's eyes on his face and tried to ignore him; moments later Dean's eyes panned down to the four-year-old's. Sam had him now; he couldn't escape the question now.
"He's doing his job," Dean's eyes averted back to the TV. He made a quick glance at the clock on the wall. It was only 7:30; in a half an hour Sam would have to go to bed, but if he kept up his questioning Dean might have to put him to bed early. He had promised his father that he wouldn't tell his brother what he really did. They wanted to keep Sam in the dark, as innocent as they possibly could. Sometimes Dean wished that he could keep this up forever, never bringing Sam into this, but he knew that one day they would have to tell him. He also wanted that innocence for himself, but that was long gone.
"And what's his job?" Sam said as he turned his head to look at the TV, but didn't find it as interesting as he did his big brother. Even though he was only four he knew that his older brother was keeping something from him and so was his father. Maybe one day he could be an investigator, he always liked finding out the truth.
"He's making the world safe," Dean glanced over at the clock again; 7:35. Come on why doesn't it move faster!
"From what?" Sam asked. "Is he like Superman?"
"Yea, he's like Superman." Dean let out a laugh at how innocent Sam sounded. Guess we're doing our job pretty well.
Sam turned back to the TV and leaned back against the couch. Completely forgetting about his investigation into his father's whereabouts and his "job", Sam's eyes started to slowly close. Dean noticed his brother's sleepy eyes and started to shoo him to his room. "Alright Sam, bedtime."
"No, I wanna wait for Dad."
"Sorry Sammy. I'll make sure to wake you up when he comes home though," Dean bargained. He would try anything to get this kid into bed quickly and without a fight.
"Okay," Sam said tiredly, rubbing his eyes as he walked towards his bedroom. Dean had his hands on his brother's back the whole time, pushing him lightly in the right direction.
After Sam was fast asleep, Dean laid back down on the couch and continued to watch TV. He glanced at the clock and noticed it had been 3 hours and still their father hadn't returned home. "Something has to be wrong. He would have at least called by now." Or maybe not. He has just been a little longer than intended and hasn't always called before.
Dean just couldn't be sure; he grabbed the phone and stared at it for a moment. He could hear the dial tone, but he ignored it. If I call him, I might ruin one of his hunts, or get him hurt. But if he's already hurt and he has no way of getting help… "What should I do?"
There was a loud bang at the door, taking Dean's attention away from the phone. He hung up and grabbed the shotgun that was kept under the couch. He backed up slowly to look in Sam's room to make sure he was okay. Sam was still asleep as another knock hit the door, a little harder this time.
"Dean, open the door. It's me." A familiar voice came booming through the door. John always told them not to open the door no matter what. Dean knew that it was his father on the other side of the door, but he didn't understand why he wouldn't just use his key.
The shotgun that was in Dean's hands started to fall to his side as he walked towards the door. After he grabbed a chair to stand on he looked through the little peephole near the top of the door and saw his father leaning against the door. "Dad!"
Dropping the shotgun at his feet, Dean opened the door quickly, not knowing that his father would just fall down at his feet. "Dad! What's wrong?!" Dean slid under his father's torso and supported his weight as he guided his father to the couch. Dean ran back to the door, closed it, and kicked the shotgun back under the couch. Luckily he had forgotten to take the safety off when he first grabbed it.
He ran towards the kitchen cabinets and searched for the first aid kit. He ran back to his father who was shaking his head. His eyes started to close, but Dean splashed some water on his face to keep him awake. "It's going to be okay Dad. Just stay awake. It's going to be alright."
Dean looked down at his own hands which we shaking uncontrollably as he notice the blood on his father's clothes. He had only gave his father medical attention once before and that was only for a broken rib; no blood involved.
John smiled down upon his son as he saw that his son was taking control. He knew he could trust Dean to take care of any situation. Dean opened up the kit and looked down at the all he could use. What do I do first!?
Dean looked up at his father and noticed a small trail of blood coming down the side of his face. Head wounds first. Come on Dean! It needs a couple of stitches…
There was another knock on the door. Dean looked up at his father confused and John returned his son's look. Dean reached under the couch again for the shotgun, this time taking the safety off. He aimed it at the door and waited for something to happen.
But that something didn't happen and Dean looked back towards his father. His father had a hint of fear in his eyes, but Dean didn't notice. They both glanced at Sam's bedroom door, and Dean took quick strides towards his little brother's room. He cracked the door and popped his head; Sam was still out cold and safe.
God that kid can sleep through anything. Dean smiled to himself and closed the door quietly, not like slamming the door would wake the kid up. The eight-year-old boy walked back to his father and was about to begin his work when another knock on the door arose, except this time it was much harder and followed by a yell.
"Open up! It's the police!"
Dean looked up at his father in surprise and questioned his father mentally. John knew what his son was thinking and he shook his head slowly, for the pain in his head only grew stronger when he moved it. "Take Sam and get out. Call Pastor Jim and tell him to come pick you up when you get far enough away."
"But—" Dean began, not wanting to leave his father behind.
"Dean, that's an order." And with that short command Dean moved solemnly towards Sam's bedroom.
Once he got into his brother's bedroom, which he also shared, he grabbed what little clothes were in the dresser and shoved them in the duffel bag that held the rest of their supplies. He threw it over his shoulder and awoke his brother. "Sammy, wake up. We have to go. Come on."
"Dean, where are we going?" Sam asked half asleep still. He rubbed his tired eyes and brushed the strands of hair that still hung in front of his face.
"I don't know, but we have to go. We're gonna meet Dad there." Dean started opening the window when the door to their bedroom swung open. A tall, butch man stood in the doorway, wearing a police uniform.
"They're in here," he yelled out to what Dean guessed were more cops. "Now why don't you two just come over here and let us help your daddy out. You can come with us and make sure he is okay." His voice was soothing and sweet as though he had children of his own. He bent down to be at eye level with the two Winchester boys and had a kind smile. Sam was sold with going with the police man, but Dean wasn't so eager. He didn't really have anything against cops, except that their father had warned him of the dangers that the police could cause their little family. They could take Dean and Sam away from their father, take Sam away from Dean, and get placed in a foster home with strangers. He wasn't letting this man or anyone rip apart his family if he could stop it.
Dean grabbed hold of his little brother and pushed Sam behind himself. "Sammy go," he whispered over his shoulder at his brother. Sam looked at his brother in confusion, but he would do anything for his brother, even climbing out the window of their bedroom. He started to move closer to the window, but was afraid for his brother, causing him to go slowly and to never take his eyes off of Dean.
"Hey! Why don't you just come with us? We don't bite. You'll be able to see your father," the police officer called towards the two boys. He inched closer, but stopped once he noticed Dean's body tense up. "I'm not going to hurt you."
"Yea, whatever," Dean replied as he got ready to fight. He knew he wouldn't be able to take the officer for he was too big, but Dean hoped he could buy Sam some time to get away.
The officer started to move forward again, but his walkie talkie went off and drew his eyes away from the Winchesters. Dean seized this opportunity and spun on his heels. He ran for the window, picking Sam up into his arms. The adrenaline started to pump into his veins as he tried to get Sam out the window.
The officer saw Dean's movements and ran towards them, trying to get them back inside. Lucky for him, two more officers came to the doorway and saw what was happening. The one male officer turned immediately and ran towards the front door, hoping to stop the two escaping children.
The original officer grabbed hold of Dean's arms and held them tightly to his chest. Dean was caught in a giant bear hug and he tried to kick the man, but it didn't seem to affect him that much.
He could hear Sam let out a yelp as one of the officers grabbed hold of him outside. Dean stopped struggling; they have Sammy. I need to get to him and make sure he's okay. The officer took this as a sign to let Dean down so that he could walk on his own. Dean's head was down as walked towards the door of the motel room; he could tell there were at least two police cars outside for the red and blue lights shown into the motel room.
Dean could also hear the faint whooping noise from one of the police cars, signaling it's ready to leave. His eyes widened as he noticed that Sam's cries for help had ceased, and he feared that they had already taken him away.
There still was a hand clasped around his shoulder, guiding him towards the door, but the longer Dean stayed calm and didn't try to escape the looser the officer's grip became. He knew that once the arm's grab lessened enough he could make his escape and find his brother. Come on.
The officer's hand was lying limply on the eight-year-old's shoulder and Dean took that as an opportunity. He bolted for the door and made it out into the cold air of the November night. He didn't even stop to look as he exited, but yelled for his brother. "Sammy!"
"Dean!" His brother's cry rang in his ears as he desperately followed where it originated. Dean made it to the car that had caused him to worry before when he heard its siren. He saw his little brother sitting in the back seat of the police car, face and hands plastered to the window. He was crying as he cried out again for his older brother. "Dean!"
Dean grabbed at the car door handle, but it was locked. He continued to yank on the door, until the officer that was escorting him outside arrived and grabbed hold on Dean again. "Don't worry. We won't separate you two."
He grabbed the keys out of his chest pocket and unlocked the police door, allowing Sam to jump into Dean's arms. Dean had no choice, but to move slowly into the police car. The two Winchesters sat in the backseat of the police cruiser where Dean could only guess what was awaiting them.
Dean hadn't thought about his father until after the car started to pull away from the motel parking lot. He also hadn't noticed that there was an ambulance driving in front of them at a much faster speed. It started to disappear into the darkness, and Dean knew that his father had to be in there and that he was no where near happy.
His father had never liked doctors or hospital, even when Pastor Jim advised it. John would only rely on his father and his a few fellow hunters and no one else. Dean could tell that the doctors would be in for a big surprise. But he couldn't worry about that now; now he needed to make sure that Sam wouldn't be taken away from him or harmed.
The officer from their bedroom was driving, while the cop that had ran after Sam was in the passenger seat. The driver took quickly glances every few minutes back at the two Winchesters as he drove, Dean realized. He hadn't really cared what the officers did at that moment for all he wanted was his family back and he didn't think it would be coming back together for awhile.
Sam hadn't really grasped what was going on, but all he knew was that he didn't want to leave his brother's side. His little fingers were clinging for dear life to his brother while they started to check Dean and himself for any injuries. Dean tried to keep them away from Sam, but that only made them worry that he was protecting his father by hiding Sam's bruises or scars.
Eventually Dean let them check Sam, but swatted their hands away if they tried to physically touch his little brother. The one male doctor started to get so frustrated up that he threatened to separate the two boys. The elder boy started barking out obscenities and threats, causing the doctors to get nervous for his mental health and that of his brother.
"What did that man do to them?" "What did he put them through?" "Could he be protecting his father, by hiding something?" "How can people do this to their children?" Dean could hear all these questions being asked even though the doctors and nurses had stepped out of the room. He looked at Sam, who was pretty content with just holding onto Dean's shirt with his head buried in his brother's arms.
Dean started to push back Sam's hair, trying to sooth his brother into sleep. Instead Sam's head popped up and his tired eyes looked up at his brother, "Dean, you said Dad was coming home. Where is he?"
Those brown eyes just poured into his brother's causing Dean to just stare back, not knowing how to answer his little brother. He opened his mouth to answer, but was, luckily, saved by a female doctor walking into the room. She had long blonde hair, just like his mother had. She was slender and had a warm smile as she bent down to talk to the two Winchesters. "Hello," she said politely, "Can you tell me your names?"
Dean gave her a suspicious look, noticing that she doesn't normally wear a lab coat since the sleeves were a little short on her arms and she seemed a little comfortable wearing it. "Who are you?"
"Well technically I asked first, but I'm Dr. Karen Krohn. I just want to know some things about you and your family," she gave another warm smile, making it easier for Dean to trust her, but he was still skeptical.
"What kind of doctor?" Dean asked again, trying to keep the conversation off himself and his family and back onto this "doctor". Sam's eyes shot back between his brother and Karen, wanting to trust her, but knowing that his brother knew best.
Karen's bright blue eyes shot over to Sam briefly, but returned back to Dean. She cocked her head in confusion until his eyes flickered down to her lab coat. "Ohh, you're an observant one. Yea, I'm not a physical doctor. I'm more of a…get information doctor. I don't normally have to wear these, but there's a first time for everything." Karen stopped herself, realizing her patient was trying to draw her off her mission. "So, about that name?"
"I'm Sam," the four-year-old answered quietly, looking up at his brother, hoping he wouldn't be mad. Instead, Dean's eyes just looked down upon his brother's expressionless, almost two blank voids; Sam didn't know if that was a good sign or a bad sign. "Dean?" he whispered.
The dark green eyes panned over to Karen, noticing her hand moving over the paper with her pen. He wasn't sure how his father would react to giving away their information. That was the moment Dean was reminded of his father's situation, "Where's my dad?"
Karen's eyes shot over to the door where two doctors stood, watching to see what would happen. "He's in another room; they're just making sure he's okay." She replied, her eyes smiling with sympathy. "How old are you?"
"I want to see him," Dean demanded, his eyes turned into a swirl of stubborn rage. He jumped off the hospital bed he and his brother were sitting on, making Sam follow him. His little brother yawned, pawing his eye, trying to stay awake. Karen immediately stood up, not sure if their father was in any condition to see anyone, let alone have his sons see him in any horrifying condition.
"I don't think that's—" she began before Dean's eyes locked onto hers. Although she was looking at an eight-year-old, it felt as though he was 30 years old. His eyes spoke volumes and it seemed that all she could do was see if his father was able to be seen.
She sighed and left the room, talking to the doctors just outside the room. It was always easier to argue with two stuffed-white collars than children anyway. "Let me find out if you can, okay?"
Dean's head nodded softly before Karen left the room; Sam's hands were permanently glued to his eyes at that point, making his brother smile at how hard he tried to stay awake. The dark green eyes, that started to look brown, looked down at his brother and knew that he really needed his sleep. "Come on Sammy. You're going to sleep."
"No Dean, I want to stay up and see Dad." Even with his protest he crawled on top of the bed, laying his head on the pillow. The brown eyes slowly closed while his brother grabbed the blanket and pulled it over his brother; Dean sat on top of the bed, next to Sam, running his fingers through his hair.
He waited for Dr, Krohn to come back, but wondered what kind of "doctor" she really was.
"We didn't call psych down here to get the kid upset. We wanted you to find out if he was mentally unstable. What if the younger one can be saved and put with…a more capable family?" One of the doctors yelled at Dr. Krohn. His hands were up in the air with frustration; this doctor had absolutely no patience for the Winchesters.