Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters belong to Kripke. No copyright infringement intended.

Note #1: I found this story a bit difficult to write because it really explores reactions. It doesn't have much in the way of action. Still, the story needed to be told so that the third part of the trilogy will make better sense. Thanks so much for those of you sticking with this one. Special thanks to catspaw, moira4eku, belatress, rainy day, Armed mischief, and NongPradu. I really appreciate your comments.

Note #2: The next and final part is being betad. I hope to have it up by August 1. Stay tuned.

Note #3: The following story contains cussing. Blame it on JDM in Watchmen.

Just Stop

Part 2

The shrill jangle of a telephone cut through the normal night sounds. At such a late hour, most people having been awakened in such a manner might be confused or even disorientated. Not Bobby Singer. Hunters didn't keep bankers' hours and Bobby could go from a sound sleep to firing a shotgun in the space of a yawn.

Already primed for action, Bobby snatched up the receiver and swung his feet to the floor in one smooth, economical movement. He was ready for anything. "Singer!" he barked.

"Bobby? I need your help!" The unmistakable growl was John Winchester's. It carried the usual intensity that only John could convey. The underlying panic, however, was both uncharacteristic and unsettling even if John was trying his best to mask it.

A spark of unease flared in Bobby's gut. There wasn't much that scared John Winchester. Only one thing, two really, could drive the ex-Marine to show real terror. Bobby didn't like the possible scenarios his imagination was conjuring up.

He took a deep, calming breath. "John, is it Sam? Has something happened?" Bobby knew the youngest Winchester had left home and was now attending Stanford University. In another life, John would have been supportive of the move. In this one, it only left him with an irrational fear that something would happen to Sam. Bobby had tried to explain that the boy was a great hunter and that he'd been trained by the best. But John wouldn't listen and arguing was futile.

Plain and simple; John didn't like to be out of control.

"What?" John was speaking. "No, Bobby. Sam's still gone." For a moment, bitterness eclipsed fear.

Bobby ignored the sullenness. A small kernel of terror was blossoming in his chest. Only one possibility remained. "Dean?" He half-whispered, already pulling on yesterday's rumpled clothes.

"He's been hurt, but," John started.

Bobby didn't allow him to finish. "Something's happened to Dean? Damn it, John, you took him on a hunt, didn't you? What the hell were you thinking, ya idjit?"

John's voice was glacial. "I know what's best for my boy, Bobby."

"You sure about that?" Bobby growled. "Seems to me you don't know Dean at all."

"Bobby." The warning in the tone was very real.

"You know how Dean feels about his kid brother. You should have given him more time—"

"That's enough, Bobby. I know him better than you do. He's my son."

"Then treat him that way. Not like some damn soldier!" Bobby snatched his wallet from atop the bureau and stuffed it into his back pocket.

A beat. Two. Three. The silence seemed to suck up the very air in the room. Bobby didn't care if he crossed the line with John Winchester, but if the man stopped talking to him, then Bobby would never find out what happened to Dean. The unknown was already eating him up inside. He was just about to say something, anything, when John finally spoke.

"Fuck you, Bobby." The words were ruthless. "He needed to focus on something other than Sam abandoning him and I gave it to him."

Bobby rolled his eyes as he took the stairs down to the first floor two at a time. "Are you even listenin' to yourself? Sam only went to school. You're the bastard that made it impossible for him to come back." Bobby was familiar with the story. Hearing Dean tell it in a holding-back-tears, gotta-be-strong voice had made Bobby ache for the boy. He'd always had a soft spot when it came to Dean.

"What happened between Sam and I is none of your g--damned business!" John shouted.

Bobby winced, his ear having taken the brunt of the assault. He opened his mouth to protest as loud and as emphatic as John had. He didn't get the chance.

"Shh, shh. I'm sorry, son." John was whispering. "God, Dean, I'm sorry. Just hold on. It's gonna be okay. Shh." The panic was back. The worry making John's voice shake.

"John? John?" Bobby yelled, argument forgotten. Damn it. Sometimes he wanted to kick his own ass as well as John's. Often arguing over Dean also meant they were ignoring him, too. The boy didn't deserve that. Never had.

There was no answer from John.

Bobby swallowed his fear. If Dean were seriously hurt, John would have taken him to the hospital. Right? Maybe they were already there.

No. Of course that wasn't right. John was notorious for avoiding hospitals and he'd called Bobby for help. "John, what's going on?"

"It's okay, son. Take it easy." Bobby could barely make out the soothing words. "I'll clean it up. Don't worry about it."

"John! Damn it! Answer me!" Bobby stood in the middle of his living room, only now realizing what helplessness really felt like...how paralyzing it was.

"Bobby?" John said softly, the anger gone. "I've tried everything and I….It's not working. I'm not sure what to do."

The insecurity in John's tone broke Bobby a little. John's stubbornness aside, he loved his boys. He hurt when they did.

"How bad is he hurt? What hurt him?" Bobby grabbed a knapsack and started stuffing books, both of the medical and the mystical variety, into it. He refused to believe that, between the two of them, he and John couldn't save Dean. He swallowed hard. To help Dean.

"It was a ghost," John finally answered. "It threw him around some. He knocked his shoulder pretty bad and bruised his back."

Bobby nodded to himself. This, he could work with. He had cold/heat packs, slings, muscle relaxants…. Bobby frowned. So did John. In fact, the whole thing sounded rather benign. It didn't even begin to explain the frantic phone call.

"What aren't you tellin' me?" Bobby barked out. "Does he have a concussion? Internal bleeding?" Bobby inhaled sharply. "Did Dean break his back?"

"No. Nothing like that." The reassurance came quickly. "I don't even think he lost consciousness. He—he managed to tell me that much."

"What the hell does that mean?" Bobby made sure the front door was locked and climbed into his car. "Tell me, John." Orders were probably the best way to handle Winchester right now.

"I've never seen him like this, Bobby. Its never gotten this bad before." There was a stuttering sigh from the other end of the line. "He can't move without getting sick. Fuck, he won't open his eyes."

"What the fuck are you waiting for, Winchester?" Bobby stomped on the gas and yanked on the wheel. His cell phone nearly went flying. "Call an ambulance!"

"Bobby, I can handle this," John said, but his confidence was gone, desperation taking its place.

"No, you can't," Bobby said through clenched teeth. "Call the damn ambulance and then let me know when you get to the hospital. I'll meet you there."

"Bobby—"

"Just do it, John!" The car roared down the dirt road and Bobby realized he had no idea in which direction he should be going. "Where are you?"

Bobby pulled into a parking space in front of the hospital and laid his head down on the steering wheel for a moment. The drive had seemed long, but in reality it had been short. It had surprised Bobby that the Winchesters had been so close to his place. That is until John had confessed that he had planned for them to visit him after the job was done.

With a sigh, Bobby headed inside.

The hospital was like any other. Very bright and very cold. It was a wonder that patients didn't freeze to death.

There wasn't much difference in the emergency room, either. Lots of people in various states of misery, the t.v. showing CNN in one corner and an infomercial on the other directly across from it.

Bobby ignored it all.

John was sitting in one of the hospital's ubiquitous chairs, its cracked blue plastic hard and unyielding. He was leaning forward, elbows balanced on his knees, head hanging down. His back may have been bowed, but it was stiff, his shoulders tight. When he looked up, Bobby noticed the bloodshot eyes.

Bobby sat down next to him. "How is he?" he asked quietly when it became apparent that John wasn't going to say anything.

"They took him away from me about two hours ago." John's voice was shredded. "The only thing the doctor has come out to tell me is that they're going to run some tests." He cleared his throat. "He'll be going in for a CT scan."

"Damn," Bobby said softly. "So they think it's a concussion? I thought you said—"

"It's not a fucking concussion," John said. Bobby was sure that if there had been living plants in the area, they would have shriveled up and died.

Bobby did his best to control his natural response. Violence was the answer when it killed things, evil things. He wasn't quite ready to classify John Winchester in that category. Time would tell if that would change. "Maybe you'd better tell me what the hell's goin' on."

"You didn't see him, Bobby," John stared off into space. "Sam and I got into the mother of all arguments." His smile was rueful. "Nothing new there, I know."

"You forgot that Dean was there, too, didn't you?" The Winchesters could be very predictable.

John snorted. "Like I said, nothing new." He shifted in his seat, eyes meeting Bobby's. "The way Sam and I argue tears Dean up pretty bad although he tries to hide it from us. That night, well, Sam's bombshell devastated him. He tried to hide that, too. Too bad we know him too well."

"Didn't stop either one of you from acting like asses, though, did it," Bobby remarked.

"Never does," John murmured. "I thought it might help if he were the one to drive Sam to California. I think it might have made things worse."

Bobby took his hat off and scratched his head. "It seems to me he would want the extra time with Sam."

"I know he did. Sammy might have, too. But then again, Sam wants normal. He made it perfectly clear that his family was as far from normal as you could get." John shrugged. "Sam may have preferred to take the bus."

"Wouldn't Sam have done that if that's what he wanted?" Bobby figured if Sam had won the battle about going to college, how he got there wouldn't be an issue.

John shot him a glance. "You do know my youngest, don't you? He would have done it for Dean, but he would have resented the hell out of it."

Bobby swore under his breath.

"Yeah, that's about right," John agreed.

"So did Dean say anything about the trip?" Bobby asked. "Something that might have been a clue that it was a disaster?"

"He didn't say a damn thing," John answered flatly.

"Not a thing?" Bobby repeated, something in his gut twisting. When Dean pulled the stoic routine, it only meant that he was locking in all his emotions and hiding his heart away where it couldn't be hurt anymore.

It was bad.

"Nothing," John said. "Dean went on with the usual routine—cleaned the weapons, helped me with research, did most of the driving. It was as if Sam had never been there. At least that's what Dean was trying to pretend."

"Damn," Bobby said, voice soft.

"I went along with it," John admitted. "I thought it was the best way to help him."

"You didn't know what else to do," Bobby said knowingly.

"Not really," John said. "So I found a nice, run-of-the-mill hunt. I figured he needed something to do to keep his mind off of things. It would help if there was something to kill, too. I knew that would make Dean feel better."

Despite his earlier misgivings about Dean going on a hunt so soon after Sam's departure, Bobby had to admit that John had a point. "He always did like killing evil things."

John smiled for the first time since Bobby had arrived. "Sure does. Damn good at it, too." The smile slid from his face. "But then I fucked up."

Bobby frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You know how Dean is, Bobby," John went on. "People only see what they want to see. They never bother to see past whatever mask Dean is wearing and he encourages that."

"Yeah," Bobby was very well aware of Dean's gift for deflection.

"But if you did bother to look, you would know him, really know him, know what he felt, what he thought. You'd see it in his eyes." John stood up and walked over to lean against the wall.

Bobby stood, too, and took a step nearer to his friend. "John," he prodded.

"I let him con me, Bobby," John said bitterly, eyes full of self-loathing. "With all of the stress he's been under, you think I would have realized. A couple of days ago he pretty much stopped talking, practically stopped eating. I still completely missed it."

Bobby put a hand on John's arm. "Missed what?"

"Migraine," John bit out. "A fucking migraine."

"Dean gets migraines?"

"Yeah," John nodded. "Like Mary used to. He hasn't had one in a few years, though." He started pacing. "At least I thought so. Now I'm not so sure. I didn't see this one coming and I should have. The signs were so fucking obvious and I completely missed it. What kind of father does that make me, Bobby? My boy was in pain and I didn't see. Fuck!" John banged his fist against the pillar.

"Maybe Dean figured you were feeling as bad about Sam leaving as he was and he didn't want to bother you with it." Bobby tried to console and realized he'd missed the mark when John gave a harsh laugh.

"That doesn't make it any better." John rubbed his forehead. "This is the worst migraine he's ever suffered. I tried every trick I knew, but nothing worked."

"Then it's a good thing you brought him to the hospital," Bobby said. "They'll be able to help him."

John shoved his hands in his pockets and slumped against the pillar he'd recently hit. "Sam was always so good at seeing them coming…almost before Dean himself knew."

"Speaking of Sam," Bobby said. "Think we should call him?"

"No," John answered. "He's got his normal. I wouldn't want his family to get in the way of that." He shook his head. "Besides, he'd just leave again and that's what got Dean into trouble to begin with. I'll get him through this on my own."

"We'll get him through this," Bobby vowed, touching John briefly on the shoulder.

"Thanks, Bobby."

TBC

Feedback appreciated. Thanks.