Chapter 4

"You're making a huge mistake, Dean." Before the older man walked out, he flippantly added over his shoulder,

"Oh and by the way, you might want to take care of the Impala since you're so responsible now. I had it towed to the motel across the street…if you happen to care about it."

Just as John's back was disappearing out the door of Sam's hospital room, Dean shook his head in utter and complete disgust and then hung it. His eyes travelled to Sam's empty hospital bed and felt guilt, anger and more guilt flow through every fiber of his being. He had seen the look on his little brother's face as John had spoken; he had seen the way Sammy's wide hazel eyes had gone from relief at seeing their father to shock and sadness as he listened to the words that were spoken.

If there was one thing Dean wished he had been able to do before his father had disappeared, though, was to throw a hard punch into his jaw…but then he most likely would have gotten into heaps of trouble and he couldn't have that, especially if he was going to be taking care of his brother on his own.

Slumping forward in his chair, Dean rested his head in his hands before running a trembling hand through his hair. How the hell could John had gone behind their backs to enroll Sam into a group home? How the hell could John had fully expected Dean to return to the hunt and just leave Sammy behind? Did his father even know him at all? And on top of all that, John and Doctor Morgan had all been carrying on with their conversation about Sam as if his baby brother wasn't even in the same room; as if he wasn't able to hear them or understand their words.

Because Dean knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Sam was fully capable of understanding it. And he had been hurt…terribly hurt. He just didn't have the capabilities to express that hurt. But the older Winchester knew better, Sam was still an adult; he was still capable of making his own decisions and if his brother refused to go into some shitty group home-God forbid-then they couldn't make him.

That was that.

But what the hell were they going to do?

Just as that question was ringing in his head and he was running a hand over his forehead as a pounding headache was starting, Dean felt the familiar vibration of his cell phone and with one quick glance at it, the older brother flipped it open and answered with in a quiet voice,

"Hey, Bobby."

"You boys alright over there, Dean?" Came the gruff reply, which was laced with concern,

"Haven't heard from you and Sam since you left. Did you find your daddy alright?"

Dean closed his green eyes and leaned back in his chair, running a shaking hand through his hair. If he believed in prayer or God at that moment, he would have sent one up to say "thank you"; after all, this phone call couldn't have come at a better time…and Bobby was one of the only people, besides Sammy, that he could trust,

"Oh thank God, Bobby…"

"Dean?" Bobby's concern grew a notch,

"Boy, what happened?"

"Dad is what happened," Dean allowed a low growl to escape as he opened his eyes and rose to his feet, starting to pace around the room,

"We've got trouble, Bobby…and Sammy and I need your help…"

"What'dya need, Dean?" Came the immediate reply.

For the next couple of minutes, the older Winchester brother explained all that transpired within the last couple of days, ever since that semi had hit the Impala, leading up to Sam's current condition,

"Sammy's paralyzed, Bobby…there's also brain damage done…" Dean finally choked out, leaning against the wall and staring up at the ceiling as he spoke,

"And dad…"

"Let me take a wild guess here, Dean," The older hunter carefully cut in,

"He wanted you to continue hunting with him, right?"

With a single nod, Dean replied,

"That, and put Sammy into a group home for the disabled-"

"No, absolutely not," A low growl sounded in Bobby Singer's voice and Dean could have sworn, just from the sound of his friend's voice, that he was about to throw something across the room,

"You boys are coming home with me. I'm not gonna have you two stay anywhere else, you hear me?"

With a heavy sigh, the older Winchester brother walked over to Sam's bed and took a seat on the edge, one hand rubbing at his throbbing forehead,

"He can't walk, Bobby…we can't put this on you-"

"Yes, you can, and you will," The family friend interrupted sternly, his tone of voice leaving no room for argument,

"And have you ever heard of a little thing called construction? I did most of the work on this house, so I'm sure I can take care of adding on an extra bedroom or so. When Sam gets out of the hospital-"

"He's not going to be staying here, Bobby," Dean shook his head stubbornly, determination rising within him,

"I'm sneaking him out of here…I don't know how we'll do it, with the Impala in the state it's in, but I'll figure something out-"

"Nu-uh," Bobby once again objected,

"I'll pick you two idjits up and we'll tow that care of yours over to my place, okay?" Once Dean didn't reply, the older man continued, his tone rising,

"Do you understand me here, Dean?"

"Yes, sir," Dean grumbled quietly and was about to make another smart-ass remark when the familiar sound of Sam's wheelchair sounded from the hallway,

"Listen, Bobby, I gotta get going-"

"Just tell me where the Impala is first."

"Dad said he towed it to the motel across the street from the hospital," Dean replied quickly, turning around from where he was seated on the bed just in time to see his little brother being wheeled back into the room,

"We'll see you soon. Thanks, Bobby." Without waiting for a reply, the older Winchester hung up and stuffed his phone back into his pocket,

"I've got this, doctor." He piped up just as Doctor Morgan was making an attempt to move Sam back into his bed.

With a nod of her head, Doctor Morgan met Dean's eyes before he moved back to his brother's side,

"We'll need to talk more regarding getting your brother into that group home-"

"He's not going into any group home, lady! Quit making these decisions for my brother!" Dean snapped, moving to rest a careful and gentle hand on Sam's shoulder and felt the tension there,

"And stop talking about him like he's not there, because if I hear you or my father doing that one more time…" He stopped speaking when he felt Sam's hand clasp onto his and squeeze tightly,

"Just give us some privacy, please?"

With a sigh and a roll of her eyes as she walked out the door, Dean had to force himself to not go running after the doctor and it wasn't until he felt Sam's hand squeezing his again that he turned back and sat down in the nearest chair, facing his little brother,

"How you feeling, Sammy?"

"I'm good," Sam replied back shortly with a shrug of one shoulder,

"Dean…where's dad?"

"Sam…" The older brother sighed for what felt like the millionth time in just a matter of minutes and rubbed his face, feeling the stubble already growing there due to not having shaved in the last couple of days,
"Sam, that's what I need to talk with you about, alright?"

"I heard what dad said, Dean," Sam lowered his hazel eyes down to his lap, his good hand fiddling with a loose string of the sweatpants he was wearing,

"I understood what he said…does he hate me?"

"No, Sam," Dean shook his head emphatically, silently cursing his father for having the audacity to do such a thing. Although he had always worshipped the ground his father walked on, there was one particular thing he never took any crap regarding and that was Sammy. It had always been that way and always would be that way, especially now more then ever,

"He's our dad; he loves us…" He silently cringed at the words as it sure as hell didn't feel like his father loved them right now. If he did, would he had left them like this, left Sam like this? But then again, John always put the hunt for the demon above anything else, and that included his very own sons. The older Winchester had silently hoped that the accident would cause their father to finally open his eyes and see things from a new perspective, but instead his attitude was becoming worse and worse and it sickened Dean as he recalled that conversation he had with him just before he walked out the door,

"But he's being an ass here, Sammy…"

"I don't want to go, Dean," The younger Winchester shook his head hard as he squeezed his brother's hand as hard as he could.

"Go where, little bro?"

"To…that place dad said I was going to go," Sam bit his lip and then frowned, forcing himself to concentrate. He should know what it was his father had said, but his brain couldn't recall the correct words,

"I want to go with you, Dean…" He shook his head again as he felt a few tears prickle his eyes and slow rolled down his cheeks,

"Don't let them take me…"

"I won't," The older brother firmly, yet gently, promised as he let go of Sam's hand and pulled his brother's now shaking frame into his own arms. Resting a hand on the back of Sam's neck, he left it there as he felt slight trembling in his little brother's shoulders,

"Those sons of bitches aren't getting anywhere near you, understood?" When he didn't get a reply except for the sounds of a few quiet sobs against his shoulder, Dean gently rubbed his brother's back while the other stayed on the back of Sam's neck,

"I swear to God they won't. Dad will come around, I'm sure of it; but he doesn't hate you…"

Sam paid close attention to what his big brother was telling him. He was trying with everything in him to believe that his father didn't hate him; after all, Dean never lied to him and he wouldn't start now, not when he needed him most. But he heard the words that were being spoken between his dad and his doctor…and he couldn't seem to forget them. He might be hurt; he might be damaged; he might not be the same person that he used to be…but he still had a brain and he still his hearing. And hearing his own father pretty much talking to Dean and his doctor like he wasn't there…he wouldn't admit it to his brother, but it did hurt.

And now, he was gone.

"Sammy, you'll be okay," Dean whispered into his ear, giving him a tight squeeze around his shoulders before releasing him, but kept a firm grip on his upper arm,

"Bobby's gonna be by soon and we'll be staying with him, alright?"

"Bobby?" Sam lifted an eyebrow,

"Really?"

"Yeah," The older brother nodded with a small grin, wanting to give at least a little bit of hope to Sam right now. If there was anything his brother needed, besides himself, it was that,

"We'll get you out of this joint and away from that bitchy doctor…we'll sneak you out of here if we have to."

"Okay," The younger brother nodded in agreement, lifting his right hand and wiping away the tear tracks on his face,

"Just don't go."

"Not going anywhere," Dean promised again. He would keep making that promise for as long as he had to. It would have to take more then a son of a bitch father and a doctor who shouldn't even have her medical license to tear him away from his little brother.

0000

Bobby Singer ran his hand over the damage done to the black 1967 Chevy Impala and inwardly grimaced as he took it all in. How in the world had anybody even managed to survive the impact? There had to have been someone watching over the Winchester's, there was no other logical explanation. The older hunter knew just from looking at the nearly totaled car that it was practically impossible to even attempt to rebuild it; but the more the thought of it, and the more he thought of Dean and his obsession with this car, Bobby knew deep in his gut that the older Winchester would eventually want to attempt to fix her up.

If there was at least one working part, he wasn't going to give up on it; that much he did know.

Just like his little brother.

Sam.

Turning away from the car which was secured tightly to the back of his tow truck, Bobby sighed softly and looked up at the hospital which he had parked in. It had been a day and a half since he had last talked with Dean, and the older hunter would have arrived as soon as he had gotten off the phone with his friend, but there were things that needed to be taken care of first of all.

First of all, he needed to call in some favors from some fellow hunters. If he was going to be adding on to his house, it wasn't just going to happen in a day and he would need some type of help when it came to paying for all the equipment. Thankfully, he knew of a bunch of friends and fellow hunters who were more then willing to help him out, whether it came to remodeling his kitchen or his downstairs bathroom, or adding on an extra bedroom…one which he knew Dean would want to share with his brother.

He hadn't even seen the younger Winchester since the accident, but from Dean's broken voice and the details he had given regarding John and his doctor, Bobby's gut churned with anger and he silently cursed John out for once again being a stupid son of a bitch and putting the damn hunt before his injured boy. What kind of father was that?

Deep in his gut, he tried to reassure himself that, yes, John Winchester was a stupid son of a bitch who needed a good ass-kicking, but he would never physically hurt his boys on purpose and when it came right down to it, he would be there for them, no questions asked. But, as Bobby walked through the sliding glass doors of the hospital and made his way to the nearest elevator to Sam's room, he also remembered Dean's words the previous day when he had explained in full detail of how John had blamed Sam for his current condition.

How he had to take "responsibility" for his actions.

And those "actions" caused the older hunter to want to throw his fist into the nearest wall. Apparently, John had blamed Sam because he allowed Yellow-Eyes to escape…just so that he could save his father's life.

Sam was a hero and yet, his father refused to see it that way. Instead, he saw his youngest son as an inconvenience and a burden; someone who he was more then ready to shuffle off into a group home to get out of his hair, just so Dean could help him in the hunt again.

"You stupid bastard," Bobby growled to himself as he moved into the elevator and pressed the fourth floor button. He straightened his cap on his head and rubbed his forehead as the elevator moved floor to floor,

"Will you ever learn?"

Minutes later as he finally made his way towards the closed door to the room where Dean said Sam was currently residing in, Bobby sighed and knocked softly before opening it up. He almost regretted those actions when he was greeted, not with his boys talking to each other, but with an empty hospital bed and Dean practically screaming into his cell phone as he paced back and forth. Moving all the way into the room, Bobby shut the door behind him to give them some privacy and not cause any ruckus if Dean was heard.

"He's not a child, dad!" Dean was growling as he stopped by the nearby window and leaned his head against it,

"You can't make him do anything he doesn't want to do! Why can't you see-No, dad…NO, dad! It's not his fault; the damn accident wasn't his fault and he doesn't need to take responsibility for something he had no control over! I never asked you to pay for a group home, I never asked you to use the money you have, so you can't…Dad, will you listen to yourself for a moment-No, I-Dad…" Bobby watched as Dean moved away from the window and turned, stopping and his green eyes widening with relief at seeing him standing in the doorway,

"No, Sam's not here right now. You seriously think I would allow my brother to listen to us fight over the phone like this? Oh, so now you're concerned-He's gone to get another scan done on his legs, alright?" The older brother let out a long sigh and collapsed into a nearby chair,

"I'm not going anywhere with you, dad; and you can think again if you really think I'm going to leave Sammy in a group home. I-Dad-No, dad, we've got a place all lined up. Yeah, we're staying at Bobby's." Dean snorted and rolled his eyes at the reply on the other end of the line, which Bobby could just barely make out from the other side of the room,

"We'll figure that out without your help, thanks, dad." Without saying anything else, Dean hung up and returned his phone into his pocket,

"Sorry about that, Bobby…"

"No sweat, boy," The older, gruff hunter replied with a tight smile,

"That father of yours still giving you shit?"

"Him and Doctor Morgan," Dean rose to his feet and threw his hands up in the air,

"She seriously thinks that putting Sam into a group home is for the best and she won't lay off! She thinks the brain damage done to him is so severe that I won't be able to take care of him…She doesn't even know the kid, Bobby!"

"That's why we'll be getting him out of here as soon as it's clear out there."

"We weren't expecting you this soon, Bobby," Dean arched an eyebrow and folded his arms over his chest,

"Really, you remodeled your home that quickly? I knew you were good, but I didn't realize you were that good!"

"Shut your mouth, boy; you know it's not finished yet," Bobby smirked,

"But I needed to call in some favors to some friends, to help out with remodeling the basics areas of that house…that way, it'll be much easier for Sam to move around, you know?"

"Thanks, Bobby," Dean lowered his voice slightly,

"Sam should be back in a while; Doctor Morgan and her team of nurses took him down for another scan on his legs. Things aren't looking good, Bobby…"

"Tell me more about this brain-damage, son," Bobby took a seat in one of the chairs beside the empty hospital bed while Dean continued pacing.

"He's still Sammy, Bobby; that much I can guarantee," Dean's voice held such conviction, such certainty, that Bobby knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was telling the truth. After all, nobody knew all things Sam like his big brother. Nobody, not even his own father,

"He knows who he is. He knows he's an adult and how old he is. He knows who his family is. But his words are much shorter and he appears more…I don't know how to describe it…more innocent…? He knows about the supernatural to an extent; he knows it exists, but when I asked him what he remembered, all he replied with was that we 'killed' it. He doesn't remember the visions or even Yellow-Eyes. He remembers Jess, though…" His voice broke slightly at the mere mention of his brother's former girlfriend who had been killed the same way their mother had.

"So he's functioning on a level of a 7 or 8 year old," Bobby replied, looking the younger boy in the eye,

"But he knows that's not how old he is, right?" At Dean's nod, the older hunter continued,

"That's alright. Does he know I'm coming…or better yet, does he know who I am?"

"That he does remember," The older brother smiled slightly,

"Brain-damage or no brain-damage, who could forget your face, old man?"

"Well, this 'old man' can kick your ass from here to Kingdom Come if you don't watch it!" Bobby growled, although no real heat was in his voice,

"We'll figure this out, Dean. And we'll figure John out…"

"I don't even wanta discuss him right now, Bobby," Dean mumbled, his green eyes changing from joking to near hatred as he spoke,

"The son of a bitch left us again when he was needed the most. I want nothing to do with him."

0000

TBC