Sam was slumped over in the chair in the corner, his long legs splayed out in front of him, exhaustion finally having got the better of him. Initially he had thought Dean was asleep too, but then he stirred slightly, the blankets rustling softly as he shifted.

"Dad?"

"Yeah, it's me, son. How are you doing?"

"I've been better," Dean said with a small smile, gesturing his hand towards his legs.

John could tell the smile was false and fragile, but he decided the best course was probably just to play along.

"Did the surgery go well?"

Dean shrugged as well as one could when propped up on their side. "I guess. I'm now the proud owner of a back full of shrapnel. The docs say it'll keep the vertebrae stable."

The conversation had obviously disturbed Sam, who stirred now as well and flexed his neck and back to work out the kinks from sleeping in the chair.

"Dad?"

"Hey son. It's good to see you again."

"Uh yeah, you too." Sam was a little surprised at the genuine smile that John had given him before he turned back to Dean.

"Any change in, you know."

Dean did his best to look away so that John couldn't see his face. "No. The docs say it's still too early to say yet, but I can't feel a thing," his voice was steady, but the tension was obvious.

John dragged another chair over and sat down heavily with his head in his hands.

"God Dean, this is all my fault."

"Dad, what're you…"

John looked up. "No, don't try and tell me I couldn't have done anything to stop it because I could. There are so many things I should or shouldn't have done. I shouldn't have let you go off hunting by yourself. Sam was right," John's voice hitched slightly, "you were my good little soldier and at some point I absorbed your self-confidence and started to believe that you were invulnerable, that you'd always make it out. You might gain a few new scars but that would just be something to show off to the next girl."

"Dad."

"It's not your fault, all twenty-two year olds think they're immortal, and they should, it's the best part of being twenty-two, but I should know better. I should never have got you into hunting in the first place, either of you," he flicked his gaze over to Sam quickly, who was sitting in stunned silence, "I got into this for two reasons: to avenge your mother, and to keep the two of you safe. At some point I lost sight of the second and became consumed by the first."

"But, Dad, I wanted to help hunt the thing that killed Mom." The expression on Dean's face was some mixture of bewilderment and hurt.

"I know, son, but how much of that is because it's the only life I ever showed you? Your mother was convinced you would be an engineer or something, even at four years old you were always taking things apart to see how they worked," he smiled slightly at the memory of a happy young Dean and Mary, and then shook his head, "I can't believe this life is what she would have wanted for you. I know you must feel like this is the end, but I don't know what I would do if you had been killed, either of you. I'm sorry, son, I'm sorry for everything."

That wasn't completely true, John had had plenty of time to think on the drive here. A Winchester alone with their thoughts is rarely a good thing and John had run through in agonising detail the scenario of Dean's death. Some of the points along the way varied, but it always ended with him on his knees at a crossroads finding out if the myth was true, and if it was, he would do the deal in a heartbeat.

John dropped his head and put his hands to his face to cover the brightness in his eyes. What he didn't see as a result, and neither did Sam as he was focussed on John, was how Dean seemed to be shrinking in on himself as he digested what John had said.

"I'm just going to see if I can find some coffee in this place, it was a long drive here," he said to excuse himself from the room for a moment.

He was about halfway down the hallway when Sam called out to him. He turned and then Sam started down the corridor towards him, slightly tentatively at first, then accelerating to a jog. When he reached John he flung his arms around him and hugged him tightly. John was startled, after the way they'd parted last time he thought he might have lost Sam forever, and they'd barely been on speaking terms even before that.

"I, Dad, I'm sorry too. If I hadn't left I would have been there to watch out for Dean and this wouldn't have happened," Sam mumbled, the taller man's head buried in John's shoulder.

John found himself wondering just how long it been since Sam had got taller than him as he cautiously brought his hand up to the back of Sam's head. The last time they'd hugged like this John was sure Sam's head wouldn't have reached the top of his chest.

"What would Dean say if he saw us like this?" he said softly, almost to himself more than anything else. A little louder he added, "Come on, you go back and sit with your brother and I'll get us some coffee. I think we could all do with some."

John felt oddly weightless as he went in search of coffee, buoyed by Sam's hug. It had been such a long time since Sam had hugged him like that. Dean had never been much of one for hugs, or at least not after Mary's death. Sam on other hand, though he could be reserved at times, had still been quite a tactile person. There had been something special about Sam's hugs too. Whenever he'd come back tired, hurt and worn down after a hunt, a hug from Sam had always helped him feel better. Over time the hugs had petered out though and eventually stopped altogether, and as much as John wanted to think that it was just that Sam had grown out of it, he knew that if he was honest with himself that wasn't true. Sam might not hug him anymore, but he still did with Dean, even with Bobby, and he was always willing, and knew when, to give a comforting hand to victims they had been interviewing. It really just drove home how long he and Sam had been drifting apart.

In his distraction John almost bumped into Dean's doctor on his way back as she was on her way out the room. They exchanged pleasantries and she gave him a basic update, but there wasn't much to say at this point, it was all just wait and see.

John handed out the coffees when he walked back in, both brothers taking them somewhat robotically. While he was out Dean had been manoeuvred up into a sitting position, resting against a cushion shaped like an upturned 'U'. They spent a few moments in silence, sipping their drinks, and conveniently allowing John a little extra time to collect himself.

"I spoke to your doctor while I was getting the coffee, Dean."

Dean looked up at him but didn't say anything.

"They want to keep you in for a few more days to check that the new hardware is all settled and there isn't any infection, but then they're going to release you to outpatient."

"Great, I can't wait to be out of this place," Dean muttered.

"I thought you'd say that. Anyway, I've spoken to both Bobby and Pastor Jim and both of them would be happy for you to stay with them for as long as you want." He didn't need to say that 'as long as you want' was effectively the same as forever.

"What about you, Dad?" Sam asked quietly.

"Acknowledging my obsession doesn't make it go away, Sam. I will be around more and spend more time with both of you but I can't stop hunting the thing that killed Mary, I'm in too deep to get out now."

He hadn't really thought about it that way before, but it was true. Even if he wanted to get out of hunting he'd built up too much of a reputation, amongst the things they hunted as well as other hunters. He strongly suspected that if he settled in one place for too long trouble would find him soon enough whether he wanted it or not. He just hoped it wouldn't follow his boys too.

In the normal way Sam might have said something to object to that, but he knew that their Dad was really trying at the moment. Dean just stayed silent.

John had decided that the paperwork for Medicare had been specifically designed to be so aggravating to fill out that people would give up and not bother. To be honest knowing the federal government, that might actually be true. The doctor had brought it up for him a while ago, at his request, so he could officially get Dean's care transferred over, but he was starting to regret it now.

He put the papers down and massaged his forehead.

"Dean, I'm just going to see where Sammy's got to."

"Yeah, sure, whatever."

John didn't appreciate Dean's tone, but he bit back his instinct to call him out on it. He knew Dean must be having trouble coping with what had happened and it wasn't really surprising if that was making him act out a little.

Sam had said he was going down to the hospital cafeteria to get something to eat, but that had been a couple of hours ago now. John rather doubted that he had managed to get himself in trouble in the hospital, but with what had happened to Dean he wanted to be sure he knew where Sam was and that everything was ok. Perhaps his parenting instincts weren't completely shot after all.

The cafeteria was fairly empty when he walked in, most people had eaten lunch a few hours ago, back around the time Sam came down. He quickly spotted Sam in the back corner of the large room. His laptop was open on the table and he was pacing back and forth purposefully, talking animatedly to someone on his phone. Dean had told him that Sam wanted to be a lawyer and just for a moment John could imagine Sam pacing like he was now, but in a courtroom, talking to a jury. Although Sam had never been as comfortable with pretending to be police or other officials as Dean or himself, it had at the same time somehow come to him more naturally. He could tell that whoever was on the other end of the line was someone Sam was trying to persuade, it certainly didn't seem like he was just talking to friends.

Sam was too focussed on his conversation to notice John by the door, though he was pleased to note that Sam had placed himself in the corner that had the best view of the rest of the room. Clearly Sam wasn't going completely soft at Stanford. He decided to wait by the door until Sam had finished rather than distract him.

Sam took the phone away from his ear and snapped it closed, the conversation obviously over and moved to sit back down at his laptop, but almost immediately he spotted John standing by the door and startled slightly. Once again John was somewhat gratified that Sam's senses were not completely dulled. He walked over to where Sam was standing and could see that the boy looked quite tense suddenly, so John held up his hands in a pacifying gesture.

"I'm not here to fight Sammy, I just wanted to know where you were and what you were doing."

He saw the confusion pass across Sam's face briefly, and felt a jab in his heart that his youngest son's first instinct would be to assume that his father was here to yell at him. Thankfully the confused expression was only fleeting and then Sam relaxed slightly, though he did give a slightly nervous grin and scratch the back of his head.

"Um, well I was thinking about what you said."

"What I said?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, what you said about Dean staying with Bobby or Pastor Jim, and I mean I know they would both be happy to have Dean there, but I was thinking about all the practical problems. I mean, like both of them have stairs."

John mentally kicked himself again. That thought hadn't even occurred to him, but Sam was right, both Bobby and Pastor Jim had pretty traditional two storey houses. It certainly wouldn't be easy for someone who was confined to a wheelchair.

"They could put in a chair lift or something, to deal with that, but there're all sorts of other things, like needing handles to grab on to in the bathroom, and not being able to reach high cupboards," Sam continued, "But I remembered that Stanford has a bunch of apartments that are specifically designed to be wheelchair accessible and so I thought maybe Dean would be able to stay with me."

It was a good idea. He was certain a wealthy university like Stanford would have put a lot of thought into making sure that all of the details were right and everything was up to code. There was more to it though, John knew Sam well enough to be able to see that. The brothers had always been almost inseparable, and so it was hardly surprising that after something like this had happened Sam would want to keep Dean close, and not halfway across the country at Bobby's or Pastor Jim's.

"That was who you were on the phone with?" John queried.

Sam nodded vigorously. "Yeah, I was just talking with one of the housing managers."

"So, did it work? Do they have an apartment you and Dean can take?"

"I don't know yet, they're going to get back to me later today, and there are a couple more people I should talk to, but I think so. They sounded pretty positive."

"Ok, I'm going to go back up to Dean."

"Oh, um," Sam was suddenly jittery again, "don't tell him yet, I don't want to let him down if it doesn't work out."

Sam was still feeling guilty about not having been there to stop Dean getting hurt, that much was obvious.

"I'll tell him you were tired and needed to get some rest. When you know if it works out you can come up and tell Dean yourself."

"Thanks, Dad."

John felt another small pang as he was reminded again how unusual it was for Sam to speak to him with genuine warmth in his voice. Perhaps if one good thing came out of Dean's injury it would be helping him reconnect with his boys as a father rather than a drill sergeant.

He turned to walk back out of the cafeteria, but stopped himself after a couple of steps. He still hadn't addressed the way he and Sam had parted last time. Sam had already forgiven him, he could tell that, it was just the way Sam was, but if he really wanted to make good on reconnecting with his boys as a father he needed to say something. He sighed and turned back round.

"Sam, I, Dean isn't the only one who deserves an apology."

"It's ok Dad."

"No, Sam, I said some things I shouldn't have last time. I was scared, scared of what might happen to you if you weren't with us where I could protect you," yeah, because bang-up job you did there with Dean, he added mentally, "I just want you to know that I'm proud of you, for getting in to Stanford."

With that he turned on his heel and walked quickly out of the cafeteria before Sam could respond.

Sam watched as his father marched out of the hospital cafeteria. The apology had surprised him, though perhaps it shouldn't have after what he'd said to Dean earlier. Sam had thought that it might just have been a reaction to Dean being injured, but maybe it really had pushed him to turn over a new leaf.

He had mixed feelings about the night he'd finally left for Stanford. He'd been happy, almost euphoric, to finally get away from Dad and his overbearing, controlling attitude. On the other hand, the way Dad had told him never to come back had hurt, more than he'd ever let on anyone, even Dean. He'd held onto the feeling of getting away, getting to live his own life until after Dean had dropped him off at the bus station and then he'd finally broken down. None of the workers at the bus station said anything, it wouldn't be the first time someone had been dumped there in tears. Even after that, when he'd got to Stanford, he'd drawn on that euphoric feeling of finally being in control of his own life to plaster over the homesickness he felt at being away from Dean, and their Dad, and how out of place he sometimes felt. Without that to hold onto he thought he might have gone insane. It was strange how that day could be both one of his best and worst memories simultaneously, though he'd read enough psychology to know that euphoria could be a type of mania and so maybe the almost bipolar flip later wasn't so odd after all.

Now he could reflect on it a little differently. He felt a little guilty about feeling so happy to finally be away, but on the other hand knowing that his Dad did care, even if he had a hard time showing it, made it hurt less. That Dad had a hard time with feelings of any sort was pretty obvious to just about anyone, it didn't take a genius to notice that Dad had immediately left the room after both apologies. It was pretty clear where Dean got his aversion to displays of emotion from.

Another hour or so later and John looked up to see Sam walking back over to him and Dean. From the expression on his face he guessed that he must have been successful at finding a wheelchair accessible apartment at Stanford.

"Hey Dean."

"Hey Sammy, what's up?"

"I have another option, you know for when you get out of here. You could come and stay with me at Stanford if you want. The university has some apartments that are designed to be easily accessible with a wheelchair and we could have one."

Dean didn't quite know what to say. On the one hand, he did want to be with Sam, and it was pretty clear Sam wanted it to, and just the fact that Sam wanted him to live with him made him feel a lot happier. On the other hand, he wasn't sure he'd be able to cope with Sam constantly fussing over him. He glanced over at John.

John shrugged slightly and said, "It sounds like a good option, but it's entirely up to you Dean."

Dean could read between the lines, Dad thought he would be better off staying with Sam.

"Yeah, that, that sounds like a good idea Sammy, I'd like that."

"Great!" Sam was practically bouncing with happiness, "I'll need to finalise some details with them, but it should be ready by the time they release you from the hospital."

Author Note: So, John has arrived. I hope his reaction to Dean being paralyzed and his change in attitude as a result is believable. Well, his resolution to change at least, we'll see how well it sticks.

Also, thanks to all of the reviewers so far. Knowing that people are enjoying the story really does help keep me motivated to write more!