John tore his gaze from Sam and stepped back from Dean. His brother had a huge grin on his face.
"Dad…" He rasped out. "I…uh…didn't think you got my messages." Dean said. Sam's lips twitched down. He hadn't realized Dean had left their dad messages, too. He supposed it made sense, though. His brother always kept him informed. Dean sank down onto the bed and continued. "I mean…I knew you got them. But I didn't think you'd get a break from work to call or come. It's good to see you." He paused again and nodded to Sam. "Sam's been a real bitch."
"What?" Sam huffed in surprise. "I've been the bitch? Really?" He strode over and plopped beside his brother on the edge of the bed. Sam pushed down his issues with his father for the moment. "He won't take his pills, Dad. He needs rest and food and he does everything in his power to not eat or sleep…oh…and he wants to go hunt pixies."
"I'm sorry." Dean grinned at him. "Let me change that. Sam's been a real whiney bitch."
John moved his hand to Dean's chin. He peered down at his son, a frown deepening on his face. Dean fidgeted on the bed. John's brow knitted in concentration.
"Okay." He said in a slow, calculating tone. "So Sam hasn't been doing a good job taking care of this?"
"What?" Dean's pale features opened in shock. "No, it's not that. Sam's been…" His brother sighed and turned away. "Sam's been great, Dad. I'm trying to eat and sleep, okay? It's just all of this…" He turned back to his father and waved his arm at the room. "The time off, and the hot shot doctor…it's not necessary. I don't need all this."
"Dean…" John moved to sit on the Dean's other side. "You're not looking so good, son. You need to listen to your brother."
Dean turned to him, shivering a little without the comforters. John grabbed the blanket and put it around his shoulders.
"I still have my hair."
John rubbed his back and nodded. "Hair's not everything. You look like hell, son." Sam heard guilt inch into his tone, but he doubted his brother picked it up. "Worse than before."
"Look." His brother cut in with a defensive rasp. "Last time, I kept hunting the whole time. I was on my own for most of it. And I was fine." Dean yanked the blanked around him tighter. "Why should I stay cooped up? I should be out doing my job. I'd feel better that way."
"Right." Sam shook his head. He'd had enough. "You don't need to rest and get better. You should be out in the cold, dangerous world." Sam felt his anger bubbling up, volatile and effusive. "I mean…to hell with the fact that your immune system is on the fritz. Or that the chemo thins your blood. And why start with pixies? Why don't we go hunt a poltergeist or werewolf or something? Or…"
"Boys." John growled.
Sam felt old teenage rebellion jolt through his system. His body tensed and he crossed his arms. "He needs to take care of himself, Dad." He said, loud and firm.
"I do take care of myself." Dean growled.
"Yeah?" Sam shouted as exhaustion, worry, and frustration bested him. "Then maybe Dad and I should both go? Huh? Then would you be happy?"
Sam clamped his mouth shut. He knew he'd said the exact wrong thing from the 'just slapped' expression on his brother's face. Sam turned apologetic eyes his way.
"Dean…I didn't mean…"
"Whatever, Sam." His brother gave him a wry grin. "Not like it would be the first time, anyway." His brother struggled up, leaving the blanket between them. "You two can go wherever the hell you like." Dean stomped into the bathroom with more vigor than he'd had in days. "It's not like either of you wants to be here."
Sam got up to follow him. "Dean…" He heard the bathroom door lock. Sam raised his hand to knock, but his dad stopped him. Sam blinked at him confused.
"Let him simmer down, Sam."
"Or…" Sam said. "I could pick the damn lock and drag his stubborn ass back to bed."
"Sammy…give him a few minutes. He's sick, tired, and frustrated. Let him collect himself."
Sam felt his anger shift towards their dad. That's right. He was mad at him, not Dean. "That's your way, isn't it? Give him a few minutes and he'll be fine. It doesn't always work that way, Dad."
John peered at him with an expression that suggested he didn't appreciate the tone, but instead of commenting, he moved towards the room door.
"I think we need to talk outside, Sam. After that, we'll talk with your brother."
Sam glanced between the bathroom door and the room door. He ran his hand through his hair. Maybe Dean did need a few minutes to himself. Sam knew he did. Only Sam wasn't going to get it. He followed John outside.
"You know…" The words rushed from Sam's lips, hard and unforgiving, as soon as they were outside on the hard cement. "I used to think that Dean thought you were invincible. That he never considered you'd get hurt that badly or killed. But he never thought that way." Sam raised his palms. "I had it wrong. It's the other way around, isn't it, Dad. You just think he can take whatever is thrown at him and he'll be okay. Well, he's not okay, Dad."
"I know that, Sam." John stepped into his space, a snarl on his face. "But I can't be here. Not now. It's too dangerous. Especially with your brother sick."
"He needs you, Dad." Sam softened his voice. "Things other than monsters can take him. You get that, right. He has cancer."
"He has you." John leaned back against the brick of the motel. "Look, Sammy. I wish I could be here for your brother. I do. It's killing me to leave him…"
"But you're gonna do it again, aren't you…" Sam mumbled.
"Look, son." John reached for him. Sam pulled away. "I'll stay until morning. But your brother, he's strong. And I trust you to get him through this." His dad inhaled, his broad chest expanding. "I know it's not fair, Sammy. Not to you. Not to him. But this is our life. And this is how it is."
"Dad…" Sam said, feeling exhausted and hurt and angry.
"Don't argue with me, Sam." Anger crept back into his Dad's tone. "I went through this with him the last time. I know what it's like."
"Really, Dad?" Sam snorted. "You mean you left him then, too."
"That's not how it went, Sam." John paused. "Besides, you were away at school. What did you care what happened to us?"
It was a low blow. Sam felt heat rise in his cheeks.
"No one told me."
His father inhaled deeply, the tension dropping from his face. They both knew that was an argument for a different day.
Sam bit his lip. "He thinks you don't want to be here, Dad." He said it in a gentle tone. John crossed his arms and looked away. Sam couldn't tell if John believed it, but he looked guilty as hell.
John straightened his shoulders. "You make sure he gets better." He nodded toward the door to the room. "And I'll make sure the stubborn kid understands you're in charge." John took in a deep breath. "One more thing, Sam."
Sam held his breath. Something about his father's tone made him nervous.
"Yeah, Dad?"
John stepped towards him, crowding him against the side of the building. "You don't ever, ever pull something like that again. I don't care how much of a selfish bastard you think I am." John's voice cracked. "I can't take that. Not again. Do I make myself clear?"
Sam wanted to argue. If his dad had answered the damn phone, he wouldn't have had to resort to that. "Dad…" He started angrily. "We needed you and…"
"Never again, Sam." John interrupted. "Do. You. Understand?"
Rebellion flared in Sam's gut. He'd been conditioned to obey that tone as much as he'd conditioned himself to fight against it. And while he felt justified in lying to his dad, at the same time, he felt guilty about letting him believe Dean had died. But he wasn't going to back down. Sam had good reasons for what he'd done. The biggest one being his older brother.
"I did what I had to." Sam crossed his arms. "You should understand that…"
John lips twitched down. "We should check on him." The implicit 'this conversation is over' rang in the air. John turned towards the door to the room and Sam stomped after him.
Dean was sitting on the bed when they came back inside. He had his head in his palms. Sam's eyebrows went up. He thought he'd still be in the bathroom pouting.
"You alright, Dean?" John squinted at him concerned.
Dean looked up, startled. He gazed at them with a mixture of surprise and relief. It hit Sam fast that Dean thought they had left him. He frowned. The reaction showed how out of it his brother was since Sam's pack and their dad's keys were still in the room. Not to mention, there was no way in hell Sam was actually leaving him while he had fucking cancer. Dean stood up as John walked over to him.
"Sam and I needed to talk outside." He explained. "I have to leave in the morning." Dean's face fell but he nodded. John continued. "You're going to have to listen to Sam, Dean, about the medicine, and you'll have to do what he says for the next few weeks. That's an order." And, maybe, John caught on to more than Sam gave him credit for, because he sounded reassuring. "You understand, son?" John added gently.
Dean looked at him and smiled. His voice came out weak. "Sure, Dad…I…ah…" Dean's face paled. His eyelids fluttered, and he collapsed into their horrified dad's arms.
Sam rushed over.
"Dean!" John shook him. "Dean? You with me, son?"
Dean eyes fluttered back open. "Heh…a little…dizzy." His brother sounded out of breath. Dean started to push back up, but John held him in place.
"Easy there, son." John said turning to Sam. "Get the car, Sam."
"Yeah. Okay." Sam rushed out, grabbing his keys. He jumped in the car, started the engine, and pulled in front of the door.
John emerged from the motel room with Dean thrown over his shoulders. He lumbered to the car and opened the back door. John carefully set Dean into the backseat and then clamored in beside him.
"Could've...walked, Dad…" Dean grumbled.
John ignored him. "Sam. Hospital."
"Yes sir." Sam pushed the pedal and accelerated out of the lot. The emergency room was only a mile away.
"Don't…need the hospital." Dean rasped behind him. "Not the…first time I passed out…"
Sam glanced in the rearview at them. John's lips were pressed tight. He had Dean pulled close to him. His brother's arms were limp at his sides and his head was resting on John's chest.
"Shhh…" John spoke in a soft tone. "Dean you need to relax. Just rest 'til we get the hospital. Breathe nice and slow. Match your breathing to mine." He petted Dean's hair and held him tighter.
Dean shifted weakly. "Not a…damn…dog, Dad."
John chuckled. Sam turned his eyes back to the front. The sound of breathing filled the car. He heard his father clear his throat as he pulled the car into the hospital entrance.
"We're almost there, Dean." John said. "I'll stay until you're through this, son." He added quietly.