Hidey ho, everybody! I'm back with chapter 4! This story is now officially longer than I had planned it to be :) Of course, my stories always seem to become longer than I plan them to be! So shoot me ;) Anyway, I won't bore you with my ramblings. Just read!

Chapter 4

John rubbed his tired eyes for the hundredth time before returning his gaze to his eldest son. He let out an exhausted breath then turned to look at his youngest son in the next bed, Dean at his bedside, Sam's smaller hand in his. They had finally succeeded in convincing the doctors to move Sam into Daniel's room, using the excuse that he was terrified of hospitals and would be even worse if he were separated from his brother. This was the same excuse John had given the CPS officer who had come to talk to him about not immediately taking his son to the hospital. He had been at Sam's bedside for an hour, Dean with Daniel, and he had been beyond tired. Luckily for John, the CPS officer didn't seem too keen on doing much paperwork so had signed off with a slight nod of his head. The man had left after only a few minutes and John had collapsed into his chair with a relieved sigh. That was five hours ago and much had changed since then. Sam had been moved to Daniel's room at John's insistence, both brother's fevers had continued to rise despite the treatments they were receiving and now Daniel wore an oxygen mask to help with his breathing. There was talk between Sam's and Daniel's doctors of moving Daniel, if not Sam as well, to the ICU so they could be more closely monitored, but so far both brothers remained on the medical floor with even stronger antibiotics coursing through them, but their condition had only worsened. John was at his wits end and Dean had pretty much shut down. He would hold Sam's hand for a while and then he and John would switch sides and he would hold Daniel's. That was how it had been since it became apparent the antibiotics weren't working and John feared he may very well lose all three of his boys because there was no way Dean could go on without his brothers.

John laid his arm on the edge of Daniel's bed then dropped his head to rest upon it. He couldn't take this…watching his son's fight for their lives and watching his third slowly slip away from him. Neither Sam nor Daniel had been conscious for more than a few minutes at a time the entire time they'd been sitting with them and even now, Sam's breathing was becoming more and more labored. John knew it was only a matter of time before he too would be forced to wear an oxygen mask. He figured that Daniel was not far from the point where the mask would no longer be enough and it terrified him to think that he might need to be intubated in order to breathe. John lifted his head and stared at his eldest. There had to be something they could do. This was no ordinary infection and John feared that nothing the doctors did would be of any help. Suddenly, he pushed to his feet, the chair he'd been seated in scraping across the floor and drawing Dean's exhausted green eyes to him.

"I can't just sit here and watch them die," John hissed. "I'm going to call Bobby…see if he has any ideas. You stay with them, Dean…I'll be right down the hall," he added. He hurried out of the room when Dean gave him a slow nod and rushed to the family room a few doors down. He was dialing Bobby's number as he hit the door to the room and nearly sagged with relief when his friend answered on the eighth ring.

"Winchester…this better be good for you to be getting me outa bed at this hour!" Bobby's sleep filled voice snapped at the other end of the line and John couldn't keep the slight grin from curling his lips.

"Bobby…what do you know about an infection brought on by the claws of a wendigo?" John asked in a rush.

"What? Wendigo? What the hell have you gotten yerself into ya damn idjit!?" Bobby spat. John could hear the rustling of papers and surmised that Bobby had made his way to his den even before John had spoken.

"It's…it's Danny and Sam. They got clawed and now they're both in the hospital with infections. None of the treatments are working and I think I'm gonna lose them, Bobby," John sputtered, his fine hold on his emotions cracking as he said the words. "Please, I beg you, tell me there is something I can do. I can't lose them. Dean…he…"

"What about Dean? He hurt too?" Bobby questioned from his end, the obvious sound of a book smacking open reaching John's ears.

"No, he's not hurt. He's…he's losing it. He's watching his brothers dying in front of him and he's checking out and I don't know what to do. I'm losing all three of them, Bobby…please…help me," John cried, all attempts at remaining stoic thrown out the window as he laid it on the line for his friend.

"Now, Johnny, just hold yerself together. I know I've read something about this. Not many folk survive a wendigo attack, but there have been some. There's a fever that just keeps burning hotter and hotter, but there's a draught recipe. If I can just find that, you can make it up and feed it to the boys. It'll knock that fever out…I just have to find it," Bobby snapped.

John took a deep breath and listened to the sound of his friend paging through whatever book he had pulled from the stacks in his den, the man's patience wavering with each passing second. Finally, when he thought he could take no more and was about to yell at the older hunter over the phone, Bobby's voice came back on the line.

"Found it! You gotta pen and paper handy?"

John looked frantically around the room and he sprang forward when he saw a note pad and pencil lying on a small desk in the corner. "Yeah, Bobby…I got it. Tell me what I need," he said as he sat at the desk and took the pencil in hand. Bobby recited a list of ingredients and how to mix up the draught while John wrote every word down.

"Ya got all that, Johnny?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah…thanks Bobby. I owe you one," John answered.

"Nah…ya don't me a thing, ya damn idjit. Just git them boys healthy," Bobby huffed. "Ya want me to head yer way?" he added.

"No need for that, Bobby. If this works the way you say it's supposed to, we should be heading your way for a bit of down time once the boys are feeling better…if that's okay," John answered.

"Ya don't even need to ask, Johnny. I'll be waitin' to hear from ya so I can set yer rooms up," Bobby said. "Give 'em each a cup as soon as ya can. It should start working right away. Give 'em another cup about three hours later. That should be all ya need, but make extra, just in case."

"Will do, Bobby…and…thanks again, for everything."

John chuckled when heard Bobby draw in an exasperated breath. He was pretty sure he heard the older man call him an idjit before the line went dead. John stuffed the pad of paper and the pencil into his jacket pocket, stood and rushed back to his son's room. He hurried through the door to find that Dean had positioned himself so that he could still hold Sam's hand, but see Daniel with just a small turn of his head. The tired young man looked up as John entered and John felt a bit of relief when he saw the spark of hope in Dean's green eyes.

"Was Bobby able to help?" Dean asked cautiously.

John nodded and give his son a warm smile. "He found a draught that I need to mix up. Once Danny and Sam drink it, the infection should start clearing up," he answered. "I'm going to have to leave you for a bit to gather the items I need and get this concoction mixed up, but I won't be gone long. This will be over soon, Dean, and your brothers will be fine," he said as walked up to Daniel's bed. He squeezed his eldest's hand then moved over to Sam. He watched his youngest with a fond smile then leaned over and placed a tender kiss on his forehead. He met Dean's surprised gaze and shrugged his shoulders before heading to the door.

"Are you sure this will work, Dad?" Dean's hesitant voice called and John turned at the door and smiled.

"Bobby assured me that it would. It has to work…there is no other outcome I will accept," John said. At Dean's nod, John nodded in return then left the hospital.

Dean sighed as the door shut behind his father. He stood and walked the few steps to Daniel's bed, taking up his hot and giving it a squeeze. "Dad's gonna get something that will fix you and Sammy right up. Just keep fighting, Danny, I can't do this without you," he said with a slight hitch in his voice. He watched Daniel's face for a moment then returned to Sam's bedside. He stood over the bed took in Sam's pale face. He gently brushed the hair from Sam's eyes then took his hand.

"Sammy…you have to fight, just like Danny is fighting. You saved his life, now you have to hold onto yours with all that you have until Dad can get here. Don't you leave me, kiddo. I couldn't take it if I lost either one of you," Dean whispered. He lifted his hand and brushed away the single tear that escaped down his cheek. He gave a small chuckle as he sat down on the chair once again. "See what you two have done? You made me cry like a chick. You are both going to pay for that when you're better," he said as he sent up a silent prayer for his father's speedy return with the medicine that he hoped would save both of his brother's lives.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

John rushed through the doors of the hospital some two hours after leaving his sons and made straight for the elevators that stood just past the reception desk. He had his hand in his deep jacket pocket, his fingers wrapped tightly around the jar that held what he prayed was the lifesaving draught Bobby had promised it would be. He punched in the number for the medical floor and waiting impatiently as the elevator made its way up. Finally, the elevator stopped and the doors opened. John was out into the hall before the doors had even fully opened and was halfway down the hall toward his son's room before it closed. He glanced around as he came to the room, then slipped inside. He smiled when Dean jumped to his feet, his eyes wide with expectation.

"Finally!" Dean hissed. "They've been in and asking for you. They are moving toward moving them both to ICU since they've both gotten even worse since you left and Danny's doctor thinks they should put a damn tube down his throat!"

"Slow down, slugger. It took some time to find all of the ingredients and then I had to go to the hotel to mix them all," John said as he hurried to the beds. "Grab me Danny's water cup…we need to get this into him!"

Dean did as he was told then stood beside his father. "How are we going to get him to drink it when he's unconscious?" he asked.

John glanced over at Dean once he had filled the cup. "I'll lift him up and hold him…you will slowly pour the draught in his mouth. I'll rub his throat to get him to swallow," he answered as he handed the cup to Dean and sat on the edge of the bed, preparing to lift his son.

"And that will work?" Dean asked as he too moved into position.

"I had to do it before. Rubbing the throat triggers an automatic swallowing motion," John replied. "Just pour it slowly so he doesn't choke."

"Um, should I lock the door maybe?" Dean asked.

"No…the nurses were on the other side of the ward doing their rounds. It should be about fifteen minutes before they get to us," John said.

"But, Danny's doctor could be back at any time to talk to you. He said…"

"Then we better hurry now, huh?" John interrupted.

Dean nodded and waited until John had Daniel in the correct position. When John gave the go ahead, he gently eased Daniel's mouth open and carefully poured the draught in while John rubbed his fingers up and down his son's throat. Just as John and said, Daniel started to swallow the mixture, which to Dean's surprise did not smell bad like he had expected. It took a few minutes, but finally the cup was drained. Dean helped John ease Daniel back down onto the bed, then they moved to Sam's bed. Dean filled the cup again then waited for John to lift his baby brother up. Once Sam was leant against John's chest, Dean repeated what he had done with Daniel and soon, Sam's cup was empty as well. John shook off Dean's attempt to help him with Sam, the man preferring to hold his youngest for a few minutes before he finally shifted and laid the boy down. John twisted the lid back onto the jar that held the remaining draught, then shoved it into his pocket. Both Winchesters took their seats next to the beds. They hadn't been seated for more than a few minutes when the door swung open and Daniel's doctor stepped into the room.

"Mr. Campion, you're back," the doctor said.

"Yeah, sorry about not being here before, Dr. Stewart. I had to step out for a few to run back to the hotel," John said as he stood to greet the shorter man. "What did you need to talk to me about?"

"I am quite concerned with Daniel's condition…as Sam's doctor is about his. We have both talked it over and think it would be best if we move both of your sons up to the ICU for more specialized care," Dr. Stewart said. "Now, they won't be able to be in the same room and you won't be able to stay with them round the clock like now, but…"

John shook his head as he turned to glance at both of his ill sons. "I think I'd like to give the treatment a little bit more time to work first," he said in reply.

"But, Mr. Campion…the antibiotics aren't working. Your sons are getting worse! Daniel's breathing continues to become more labored and…"

"I understand, but…I think that if we give it just a few more hours they will turn the corner. Like I've explained, Sam is terrified of hospitals. If he wakes up in the ICU with none of us around, it could be very detrimental to him. And Danny…well, he is very protective of his little brother. If he can't see him, it wouldn't be good…at all," John interrupted.

Dr. Stewart glared at the man before him and let out an exasperated breath. "I can't force you to okay Daniel's move since he is an adult, but we can make a push for Sam, since he is a minor. If you truly care about your sons then…"

John's nostrils flared with anger as he stared the doctor down. Dean stood, his own anger at the doctor's words making his face turn red. John took a step toward the doctor and Dean feared for a moment that he would hit the man. John seemed to physically rein in his anger however and took a deep breath before speaking.

"I appreciate your concern and that is why I'm going to forgive you for insinuating that I don't care about my boys," John hissed. "But, I know my sons better than you and I know that moving them will not help. Just give them two hours. If they worsen before then, I will give the okay to move them, but I will not agree to not having myself or Dean in the rooms with them," he continued.

Dr. Stewart looked down at his clipboard, then glanced at both patients before returning his gaze to their father. "Okay, two hours. If they haven't improved then you will give the okay to move them?" he asked.

"Yes, you have my word," John replied.

"But if they worsen before that?" the doctor asked.

"Then you can move them."

"Daniel's breathing is dangerously labored. We can intubate him without moving him to ICU. I would strongly suggest you consider it."

John looked at his son and sighed. "One hour. If his breathing isn't any better, you can intubate him," he finally said.

Dr. Stewart thought for a moment then nodded. "Okay, I'll have the nurses monitor both boys every 20 minutes. If their condition becomes worse at any time, you need to have me paged," he said.

"I will," John said in reply.

The doctor checked both patients then silently left the room. John and Dean both breathed sighs of relief and returned to their chairs. Now all they had to do was wait to see if Bobby's concoction would work.

Hmmm...I hope John made the right decision. Dang wendigos and their dirty little claws! I hope you liked this chapter. I really want to those boys to wake up. While they are so cute when they're sleeping, I am missing one pair of puppy dog eyes and one wise older brother saying wise things (although he hasn't been incredibly wise in this story). So, please let me know what you think and I'll get started on the next chapter. Thanks for reading!

Cindy