Bargaining

Dean had gone to fetch them coffee and John was sitting beside Sam's bed, watching him sleep, when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw Bobby's name displayed on the caller ID. He hadn't spoken to him since they'd parted in Missouri, and he realized now that he should have put a call in sooner to set Bobby's mind at ease.

"Bobby?"

In lieu of a greeting, Bobby asked, "How's Sam?"

John looked down at his son then got to his feet and turned away. "Not so good."

"What's wrong?"

John sighed. "He can't talk."

"He's mute? What the hell happened to him?"

"He's not mute exactly," John said. "It's something the doctor called aphasia. Physically, he can talk, but the words don't make sense to us. He can't write either. He tried, but it was just gibberish. All he can do is nod. I tell ya, Bobby, I don't know what to do to help him." It was a rare moment of openness that made him admit it. He was overwhelmed with worry for Sam and that made some of his emotional walls come down for a minute. "The doctor's talking about some therapy, and he said it might go away on its own, but I'm worried. You know anything about this aphasia thing?"

He heard Bobby's heavy sigh over the receiver. "Nothing. I will look it up though. See what I can find."

John felt better that Bobby was going to look into it. He was John's go-to guy for all hunts back in the day. This was just another case to solve. "You know of anything in our worldthat can help?" he asked hopefully.

"Aside from faith healers, no," Bobby said. "And I haven't heard of one of them in the longest time."

"Nah. The boys had one recently, but that was a woman with a reaper on a leash. They took care of that. I can't think of anything else to do other than deal."

"A deal!"

"Sam's hurting," John said. "I was set to do it before, when we thought he wouldn't wake up. He's awake now, but the kid's still screwed to hell. I see it in him, Bobby. He's so damn sad. He can't make himself heard."

"And you think you dying is going to make him feel better? You're more damn stupid than I thought. He needs you, John, alive. If you make a deal, he'll be fine to talk at your funeral, but that'll be all. And what about Dean? He needs his father, too. You know how them boys are. If one's hurting, the other is, too. I saw him when they were here. Dean was scared as hell when Sam took ill."

"I'm trying to help them both," John said brutally. "Dean needs Sam to be okay as much as anyone, more even."

"That's true, but he needs his father, too. You throwing away your life isn't going to help either of them in the long run."

"It's not throwing your life away if it saves someone, Bobby. It's sacrificed. If I make a deal, I die, sure, but Sam gets a life."

"Dammit, John!" Bobby growled.

"I'm done talking about this," John said curtly. "My boys need me." He didn't say that his boys were currently asleep and fetching coffee.

"Don't do anything stupid, John," Bobby warned.

"Goodbye." John ended the call and stuffed the phone back in his pocket, cursing quietly. He raked a hand through his hair as he turned back to the bed and sat down on the chair. Sam was still sleeping, which was a relief. He didn't want his son overhearing his half of the conversation.

He wasn't decided on making deal yet. Bobby had reached him more than he probably knew. It was true that making a deal would mean leaving his boys behind, and that would break his heart, but they would be two whole men. They could survive without him. They had for months, hunting together and searching for him. They would be fine eventually.

He traced a finger over his sleeping son's hand and smiled grimly. "We'll take care of it, Sammy," he said. "One way or another, you'll be fine."

Sam slept on, but John felt better for having said it. He would fix his son.


Horror raged through Dean as he strode along the halls of the hospital toward Sam's room. It had been a day of emotional highs and lows. He had been elated that Sam woke up and then devastated again as the cost of his injury became clear. He had searched up some information on aphasia on his phone while Sam slept and it wasn't all bad. There was a chance that Sam could come out of this on his own given time. Then he'd got Bobby's call and his world had been thrown into turmoil again.

He yanked open the door to Sam's room and stomped in. John turned and glared at him.

"You want to keep it down. Sam's sleeping."

Dean looked at his brother, resting on the bed, and then turned to his father. "Bobby called."

John sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. "Okay. So you know."

"Yeah, I know. What are you thinking, Dad?"

"I don't expect you to understand," John said. "But this is what I have to do. This is what Sam needs me to do."

"Sam needs his father, alive."

John shook his head. "You're not a father, Dean. You don't understand."

A pulse of anger ripped through Dean. "Take care of Sammy, right. I have done that my whole life. I am taking care of him now, just like you told me. He needs you alive, Dad, not in Hell."

"He needs to talk and be heard," John said bitterly. "What kind of life is he going to have if he can't? He wants to be a lawyer. How's he supposed to do that? More than that, how's he supposed to do anything if no one can understand what he's saying? He needs his voice."

Dean shook his head, marveling at his father's obtuseness. Sam did need to talk, but he needed his father more. "Bobby told me about demon deals," Dean said. "You do this and you go to Hell. They send hellhounds after you and they tear you apart. How do you think Sam's going to feel knowing that happened because of him?"

John bowed his head. "He'll get through it. He'll have his whole life ahead of him, a good life. I can do this for him. I need to do this for him."

"And what about what he needs? What about what he wants? He can't talk right now, but he might again."

"I'm his father," John said brutally.

"And I am his brother," Dean said. "I am the one that takes care of him. You put that on me when I was four years old, and I have spent my life doing it. I am the one that—"

He broke off at the sound of a soft, hitching sob. His eyes snapped to the bed and he saw Sam was awake, still lying curled on the bed with a solitary tear slipping down his cheek.

"Sam," he said gently.

John turned too and his face slackened. "Sammy."

Sam shook his head jerkily and another tear fell. Dean stepped closer to the bed and laid a hand on Sam's shoulder, but Sam pulled away from his touch. He wondered how much Sam had been awake for. He had to have been awake for Dean's statement about their father putting Sam's safety in his hands, and now he examined what he had said, he realized how it would sound to Sam.

Dean let his hand drop back to his side regretfully. "I'm sorry, Sammy," he said.

Sam struggled upright and reached out to grip his father's wrist. Dean saw the skin lighten under Sam's fingers with the force of his grip. He was shaking his head and staring up at his father with desperation etched into his features.

"Wood in on!" he said quickly.

John bowed his head. Dean didn't know whether it was in sadness at the repeated evidence of Sam's disability or because, like Dean, he had worked out that Sam had heard too much. He knew what his father was planning.

"You heard us?" he asked Sam who nodded. "Talking about deals?"

"Dean," John said in a growl but Dean ignored the warning in his voice.

Sam nodded again. "Keeper!"

"Do you want Dad to do it?"

"Enough!" John snapped. "Sam doesn't need to hear this."

Sam released his father's wrist and rubbed a hand over his eyes, wiping away the evidence of his tears. He looked imploringly at Dean, the unspoken questions clear in his eyes.

"You want to know what we're talking about?" he asked, and Sam nodded again. "Dad thinks he can fix you. He wants to make a demon deal, sell his soul to give you back your words. It'll mean he'll die and go to hell."

Sam fisted his hands and stared up at his father again. John looked determinedly at the floor, not meeting Sam's eye.

"Look at him," Dean said. "Listen to what he's trying to tell you."

"He's not telling me anything!" John snapped. "He can't tell me anything."

Dean was frustrated. Perhaps because he had been the one that spoke for Sam before he had words to speak for himself, he understood now. Sam knew what his father was offering and he didn't want it.

"Look at him!" Dean said in a heated tone.

John looked at Sam and his features twisted as he saw Sam's open need. "It's okay, son," he said. "I'm going to fix this."

Sam shook his head again, his eyes pleading with John.

"Sam," Dean said. "Do you want Dad to do this?"

"Dean!" John growled.

"No, Dad. You have to let him decide. He's the one that will have to live with this, so he gets to choose."

"I am his father!"

"And he is your son. If you're throwing your life and soul away for this, he gets to have a say. Sam," Dean said again. "Do you want Dad to make a deal?"

Sam shook his head, his eyes tight with anger.

"Sammy," John said gently. "I can fix this. I can help you. That has to be what you want."

Sam shook his head, reaching out and holding his father's wrist again.

"There," Dean said with triumph. "Sam doesn't want you to do it. Besides, it's not time for deals. There still a chance it'll go away on its own, and there's the therapy."

"What if it never goes away?" John asked. "What if this never gets fixed?"

Sam shrugged his shoulders and looked up into his father's eyes. He didn't even attempt to speak, but Dean was sure he knew what Sam would say if he could: If this didn't get fixed, they would find a way to live with what was left.

John stared down at Sam for a long moment and then he sighed heavily. "Okay, son."


It might seem like overkill for John to be thinking of deals still, but you have to remember, he is a father, despite the fanon representation of him. I have read A LOT of Weechester fic, and I've seen John in every possible incarnation (Mother Teresa in leather to neglectful shite) and I've never really liked him. But then — as has happened before — I had to write him, and that gave me insight into who he really is. Despite the fact he's made mistakes in the past, he's a father first and foremost, trying to protect his sons.

Thank you for the reviews for the first installment. I love hearing from you, so if you enjoyed, please take a moment to let me know. Also if you didn't enjoy. If there's something you think I can improve on, let me know. All idea will be gratefully received.

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx