A/N: I'm back! Okay, I'm really not back as I write this...I'm sitting in the backseat of my car with 4 pillows, a sleeping bag, 2 purses, and a little brother. Fun.

I really didn't want to do this point-of-view, but I felt it was necessary for the story. It couldn't revolve completely around Dean and Sam...even if we wanted it to...

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural...I just torture it's men with Chick-Flick Moments.

Chapter 4

John walked into the room, as unprepared as Dean. It pained him to see his youngest son in this condition, so helpless, so lifeless. He was supposed to protect Sam from this, like a father should.

Mirroring Dean's actions from just minutes before, John took a seat in the chair beside Sam's bed and carefully took his hand. He sat unmoving for a moment, still trying to take in his surroundings. The white walls. The irritating, yet reassuring beeps of the heart monitor. The click and swoosh of the ventilator. The pale young man laying unconscious on the bed.

John thought about what to say to Sam, never having been in this position before. Sure, Sam had been injured before on hunts, like the angry spirit in Ohio back in 1995. Sam was years old, and had been upset about having to miss school to go along. He and Dean were sent into the warehouse, while John salted and burned the bones. The spirit began to catch on to what they were doing, and he would let it happen without a fight. John was still out in the cemetary, so the boys had to put up a hell of a fight. It managed to throw Sam around a bit, while Dean watched, not being able to do anything. Sam ended up with a mild concussion, a broken arm, and other cuts and bruises. He spent two nights in the hospital, and that was the worst that had happened to him until tonight.

"Hey, Sammy. I'm not really sure what to say here. Um...gosh. I know we've had our differences and our share of fights, but I want you to know that it doesn't mean I don't love you. All those times I pushed you away, or made you feel unloved, it was just to protect you. Ever since Mary...ever since that night, I have worried that I would lose you and your brother. I just couldn't handle that pain again, and I treated you wrong. I know we lead dangerous lives, and nothing can change that." John took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "The day you told me that you got accepted to Stanford, I knew that if you had gone, I wouldn't be able to protect you anymore. I didn't mean for you to think I was disappointed in you. I was damn proud of you, but my fear got the best of me. I said things that I shouldn't have, and I want you to know that I regret telling you to never come back. I didn't mean it. I just got caught up in the moment. I love you Sammy, and I just want you to be safe."

John was letting his emotions show and it scared him. It took alot for that to happen. He knew the situation was bad, and he wanted to make sure he said the things he needed to see, just in case. Even if Sam couldn't hear him, it still lifted a bit of weight off of his shoulders when he said what he needed to say.

John looked at Sam. "Oh, Sammy." He lifted his hand and brushed Sam's unruly mop of hair off of his pale face. "You really need to do something about your hair. I'm sure Dean has been on your case about that. We used to secretly plan to chop it off in the middle of the night while you were sleeping." John laughed. "Dean almost did it once...but you woke up as he walked in. I know you two always pranked eachother, and I have to say...Dean would have won with that. Although, that still wouldn't have beat the time he put Nair in your shampoo..."

John sat, awkwardly, for a few minutes until his time ran out. He and Dean would have to find somewhere to stay overnight, seeing as how visiting hours were already over, and they weren't allowed to stay any longer than they are now.

"I've gotta go, Sammy. I'll be back tomorrow morning. I love you." John said, kissing his son on the forehead.

John stood up and walked to the door. He took one last look at Sam's unconscious form, and left. He found Dean seated on a bench, with his head down, just across the hall. John walked up to him and put a hand on his son's shoulder. Dean stood up quickly and looked at him.

"Let's go, Dean. There's not much we can do until tomorrow." He noticed the unshed tears in Dean's eyes, and pulled him into a hug.

"It's okay, Dean. He'll be alright. He's a Winchester."

It felt good for John to say that, but he wasn't completely sure if he believed it.

To Be Continued...

A/N: WOO! Thanks for reading! Reviews are greatly appreciated!