Chapter 3
"Where's dad, Dean?"
The question coming from his little brother caused Dean to stop in his tracks, Sam's wheelchair coming to a halt just as they made it outside into the fresh air. He had attempted to make excuses to his injured brother for the past two days, trying to come up with some explanation for the father's mysterious disappearance. But he was going to have to say something different sooner or later.
Sam was hurt, but he wasn't stupid. That much he knew ever since he woke up.
The older Winchester had chosen, in those few times when Sam was not sleeping and when it was just the two of them and no doctors or nurses around, to not ask his baby brother too many questions about what he remembered and what he didn't. It was nearly plain as day just from talking with him. But deep down in the pit of his stomach, Dean knew he was going to have to continue to ask Sam the questions he had been wanting to ask for the past few days.
It had appeared that his brain was functioning on the level of a 7 or 8 year old; his words and sentences were shorter, more simple and to the point. But at the same time, Dean could clearly see frustration present in his eyes; it was like his brain wanted to tell him one thing, but what actually came out when he spoke was another. The older Winchester brother closed his eyes briefly as his heart wanted more then anything to tell Sam how he himself was really feeling; how his own feelings towards his baby brother had not changed one bit. But with that frustration that took over Sam's face every time he talked, Dean just didn't know how he would explain it. Did Sam even understand right now that he still loved him, that he still accepted him and didn't think anything less of him? He pushed back a few tears that formed in his eyes at the very possibility; it was too painful to even think about.
There was also the issue of Sam's paralysis. Doctor Morgan had attempted to tell Sam how he would most likely never walk again, but based on his brother's reaction, when he had looked back and forth between Dean and the doctor and said, "I'll try," the older Winchester didn't know what to think right then. On one hand, the last thing he ever wanted was for Sam to fall deep into depression; but on the other, it was like Sam had gotten back this innocence that he used to have when he was a child, before he learned about the supernatural.
"Dean?"
"Yeah, Sam," Dean finally replied as he continued pushing his brother and stopping as their reached the nearby courtyard just outside of the hospital. He took a seat on one of the benches and breathed in the fresh air, mentally preparing himself for this conversation he was about to have.
"Where's dad?" Sam repeated, his brow furrowing in confusion. Dean watched as his little brother was about to ask something else when pain contorted his features and he gripped his broken arm,
"Ow…"
"Here, let me see that arm, Sam," Not getting any argument, which in a way saddened the older brother, Dean pulled his brother's wheelchair closer to him and pulled out the navy blue sling he had taken outside with them. Gently easing Sam's arm into it and securing it across his shoulder and neck, Dean attempted a small smile for his brother's sake,
"Better?"
"Yeah," Sam grinned slightly, even as he cradled his casted arm to his chest.
"I honestly don't know where dad is, Sammy," Dean finally answered the question he knew Sam would ask again if he didn't give some sort of answer,
"He said he was going to get some coffee the day you woke up, but…he never came back." He bit back the urge to call their father a selfish bastard, as he didn't want to bad mouth John in front of Sam, especially when he really didn't have an answer. His gut was telling him John had been stubborn and thrown himself back into the hunt for the Yellow-Eyed demon, but another part was telling him otherwise. His father was injured himself, after all.
But then again, John Winchester was a stubborn son of a bitch, and a broken arm or head injury never stopped the older man from hunting. It would have to take a lot more then that to get him out of the game. Their father wasn't answering any calls Dean had made to him, no matter how many times he had tried calling his cell; no matter how many messages he left on his voice mail, there was still nothing. If there was anything this reminded Dean of, it was when John had first disappeared before he went and got Sam from Stanford…and all those months since.
"It's okay," Sam finally replied and Dean's own green eyes widened in slight surprise as his little brother continued,
"He'll come back."
"Sam," Dean sucked in a slight trembling breath,
"I'd like to ask you a few questions, if that's alright…"
"Sure." Came the immediate reply. Sam had sort of a gut instinct to what it was his brother needed to ask him, but he didn't say anything and allowed Dean to talk.
"Sammy, what's the last thing you remember?"
The younger Winchester frowned in concentration as he tried to force his brain to work, to attempt to answer this question. The last thing he remembered…If he thought about it, if he really thought about it long and hard, there was only one real answer to that question,
"Jessica." Sadness crept over his face as he lowered his head,
"She died."
His heart hurting for his little brother, Dean swallowed hard and went on,
"Do you remember anything after that, Sammy? It's really important that you think about that, okay?"
Frowning once again and his brow furrowing, Sam squeezed his hazel eyes shut and when he spoke again, his voice trembled slightly,
"I remember monsters. Monsters are real, Dean; and we kill them."
Feeling a sense of relief that Sam at least remembered this part of their life, Dean let out the breath he had been holding in and reached forward to grasp Sam's right hand,
"Sam, do you remember how old you are?"
"Um…22?" Sam was hesitant as he replied. He was growing more and more flustered as he knew that he used to know the answers to most of these questions; but what his brain was telling him and what came out of his mouth where two totally different things. He forced back a few tears of sadness at this realization as he continued,
"I'm 22?"
"Close enough, buddy," Dean nodded his head,
"You just turned 23 actually."
"23," Sam nodded in confirmation,
"I'm a grown-up…" Inside, the younger Winchester wanted to slap himself for the words that were escaping him,
"I know that."
"Yeah, you are," Dean quietly acknowledged,
"What do you remember about mom, Sammy?" He sucked in a shaky breath as he waited for Sam's reply.
Sam blinked his eyes a couple of times before answering,
"We don't have a mom. She died, too."
"Do you know how she died, kiddo?" The older brother continued to push. With every answer to every question, Dean felt himself growing more and more sad; it was like, just from the expressions on Sam's face, his brother knew the answers to the questions, he knew them in his heart. But his brain was telling him something else and he was unable to get the words out.
"No. She was killed, though," Sam lowered his head, his shaggy hair falling into his eyes,
"But I have you and dad, right?"
"Of course you do, Sam," Dean instantly replied with a shaky smile before it disappeared and he cleared his throat,
"There's one other thing I need to tell you, kiddo."
"What's that?"
"Sam, you heard what your doctor had to say about your legs, right?" Dean gently went on, trying to make this conversation as less painful as possible for his brother,
"About you not being able to walk?"
"It's okay, Dean," Sam shrugged his shoulders,
"I'll get better, right?"
"Sam…" The older Winchester sighed heavily, running a hand threw his short, dark hair and turning away from Sam's puppy dog, hazel eyes. His own eyes rested on a nearby window in the hospital and silently cursed himself for the words he was about to say, but knew they had to be said,
"Sam, it most likely won't…"
"What do you mean?" Sam frowned, not completely understanding what it was his big brother was trying to tell him. Sure, he couldn't walk right now, but that was alright. That was why he was still in the hospital, so that he could get better, so that he COULD get the feeling and use back in his legs and walk again. Walk out of this hospital actually,
"I don't understand, Dean…"
"Sammy, your spinal cord was severely damaged in the accident we were in, buddy," Dean gently explained, his hand still holding his brother's,
"It's not fixable. The doctors were telling the truth, Sam; this isn't something that can be fixed…" His voice choked up slightly as he gave his brother's hand a light squeeze,
"But I'm gonna take care of you, alright? Just like I always did. That's one thing that hasn't changed."
"But…" Sam shook his head stubbornly, the frown never leaving his face,
"There has to be some way…something that can be done, Dean. You can fix it, right?" A look of innocence came over the younger brother's face as he looked desperately into Dean's sorrowful eyes,
"Right?"
Dean fell silent as he looked away from his brother's puppy dog gaze.
He had failed his little brother once again…just like he always did.
But he won't be alone during this, I'll make certain of it. Even if dad…His thoughts were cut short and he shook his head stubbornly. His father could go and rot in a grave for all he cared right now. His baby brother needed him and he was going to be there for him, he was going to help him heal…whether John chose to be there or not.
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"You do realize that your son has been trying to get a hold of you for the last couple of days, right?"
Doctor Morgan's familiar voice sounded from Sam's hospital room and Dean frowned as he took in the words she was saying. What the hell? There was only one person she would be speaking to right then, only person who would be referring to him as "your son"…John was back.
And Dean was about ready to blow a gasket.
His hands clenched on the handles of his little brother's wheelchair and had to force himself to not snap when he heard their father's voice reply,
"I had some important issues I needed to take care of, doctor."
"Dad!" Sam's voice sounded from the wheelchair and with as much gentleness as he could muster, Dean lowered a hand and clamped it on his brother's shoulder, squeezing tightly,
"Dad's here, Dean."
Choosing not to reply except for a nod of his head, the older Winchester rolled his brother into the hospital room and lo and behold, John was standing next to Sam's empty bed, talking with Doctor Morgan. A glare was already planted across Dean's face as he met his father's eyes, even when John picked this opportunity to smile directly at him,
"Hey, Dean. Sammy."
"Where were you?" Dean demanded, the glare never leaving his face,
"I've been calling you and leaving you messages, dad. What ever happened to 'I'm going to get a cup of coffee'?"
John's dark eyes narrowed into slits at the tone of his oldest son's, but before he could retort back, Doctor Morgan interrupted,
"Well, he's here now." She pinned John with a serious look,
"And really, it couldn't have come at a better time." She glanced over towards Sam and Dean, who were still in the doorway to the room,
"There's some things that need to be discussed and now that you all three are here…let's begin, shall we?"
His green eyes still hard as stone as they never left his father's face, Dean wheeled his little brother over to the side of his bed and put the breaks on before taking a seat right next to him, a gentle hand still resting on his shoulder,
"What's up, doc?"
"We need to discuss the options for when Sam is released," She began, taking her patient's chart out from underneath her arm and flipping through it,
"He's still going to have lots of healing to do, so I've been looking at some possible group homes-"
"No!" Dean shouted, not letting her finish,
"Absolutely not!"
"Dean, let her finish," John demanded, shooting a glare his son's way.
Her eyebrows arched at the exchange between father and son, Doctor Morgan cleared her throat somewhat nervously and went on,
"There are some really good group homes that you can put Sam in. Some that are really close to the hospital. That way, they can take care of him, help him-"
"I said absolutely not!" Dean interrupted yet again, rising to his feet and now towering over the young doctor,
"And quit talking about my brother like he isn't in the same room with you!" He nodded down towards his little brother, who wasn't even looking at them, but was instead fiddling with the sling his casted arm still rested in,
"He can understand and hear you just fine-"
"Actually, Dean, she does have a point." John cut in, also rising to his feet and standing on Doctor Morgan's other side,
"That's kind of the reason I've been gone the last few days and haven't returned any of your calls."
"What are you talking about?" Dean's voice held an edge to it as he moved until he was standing protectively in front of Sam,
"What did you do?"
Not flinching once at Dean's tone, John turned his full attention back to Sam's doctor and began,
"I've been looking into group homes myself, and I came across some really good ones for my son. I've already signed him up, as a matter of fact."
"That's really wonderful of you to do, Mr. Winchester," Doctor Morgan smiled, not facing Dean as she spoke, already knowing that the older brother was glaring daggers at both of them. She opened her mouth and was about to continue when a knock on the open door sounded from behind them and she turned to see a tall male nurse in blue scrubs standing there.
"We're ready for the brain scan, Doctor Morgan."
"Perfect, thanks, Peter" She nodded with a tight smile as she turned back to the Winchester's,
"We're about to take your son for another scan, so why don't you two talk this through until I return?" She moved to take the handles of Sam's wheelchair and nearly missed the flinch the younger brother gave as he was moved away from Dean.
"Dean?" He whispered, turning large hazel eyes up at his big brother.
"I'll be right here when you get back, little brother," Dean promised as he took Sam's hand up in his once more and squeezed tightly,
"I promise." He waited until Sam had nodded his head in understanding before he gave a nod of permission to Doctor Morgan, but pinned her with a sharp look as she passed. He waited until his brother's wheelchair had disappeared down the hall before he grasped the door handle and yanked it shut behind him, not wanting to cause a scene for the discussion he was about to have with his father,
"What the hell where you thinking, dad?"
"Don't talk to me in that tone of voice, son," John glared right back, stepping closer until he was nose to nose with his son,
"This is my choice, not yours; Sam's my son, not yours. And after all, he won't be able to hunt, what other choice to do we have, Dean?"
"Hunting?" Dean repeated, disgust flowing through him at just the very word,
"That's what this is about? You really think I'm going to agree to come with you, to go after that demon, after this? You seriously think I'm going to leave Sammy's side, put him in some god-forsaken home with strangers-"
"Yes, that's exactly what I think," John interrupted, his eyes narrowed into slits, anger flowing through every fiber of his being. He couldn't believe they were even having this conversation! He had just spent the last amount of money he had stashed away into this group home and now Dean was trying to talk him out of it? Disgust and anger towards his youngest once again churned in his stomach, but he pushed it down as he faced his oldest son,
"You're gonna come with me and leave your brother with the professionals. That's an order."
"And I refuse, dad," Dean growled,
"God, how could you be so selfish-"
"Selfish? SELFISH? I'm going after the thing that killed your mother, Dean. Your mother! Your brother won't be able to help-"
"Then go," The younger Winchester interrupted, pulling away as he felt his father's hand come in contact with his upper arm,
"Go on without me. Sammy and I don't need you."
"Like hell you don't, son," John mumbled with a shake of his head,
"How are you gonna take care of him, huh? He can't walk, much less even take care of himself! I told you the other day that he would have to take responsibility for his actions the other night. Well, this is it, Dean-"
"You're sick, you realize that, dad?" Dean shook his head as he took a step back, unable to believe this man was even his father,
"You've always put the hunt over your sons, and now when one of them needs you more then anything, you bail on him! You bail on us! Well, let me tell you something, dad, I'm not letting you do this, and I'm not coming with you, so if you wanta go, then go. I'm not stopping you." He shook his head again as he felt some of his anger dwindle and in its place was sadness over how he was going to have to tell Sam this,
"You know something, dad…Sam might be brain-damaged, but he's still Sam. If you had only stayed here instead of being sneaky like that, you would have seen that. You would have put your son first for once in your life…"
"Dean-"
"Just go, dad," The disgust returned to Dean's voice as he sunk into the chair beside Sam's empty bed,
"Just go." He didn't even bother to look up as John walked right past him and to the door, but as the door opened and the footsteps stopped, Dean glanced back up and met his father's eyes once more. It was hard to decipher to look he was giving him, but Dean didn't even flinch even as John spoke one last time.
"You're making a huge mistake, Dean."
And with that, John Winchester was gone.
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TBC
