A/N: Ok, so I know this is a really short chapter, and it's kind of choppy, but I've been suffering from horrible writer's block the past week, so I figured anything was better than nothing. Again, sorry for the long wait, and hope you enjoy the chapter.
One Week Later
For the life of him, John couldn't remember what he had turned around and went back into the house for. Something important, he knew that much; the need to run back inside was almost overwhelming. Like something would go horribly wrong if he didn't return for… well, whatever it was he had forgotten.
The phone rang, almost immediately upon his entering the small cabin John, Bobby, and Sam had been sharing for the past four days.
He sighed irritably. All he wanted to do was get back home. But he had forwarded his cell-phone to the house phone –since the nearest cell tower was a good thirty miles away – and he didn't want to live with the guilt that would follow if he didn't answer the phone to whatever poor bastard needed help dealing with the supernatural.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Winchester?"
"Who's askin'?" John asked gruffly, not liking the man's voice. Sounded like some kind of educated idiot, who spent more on a car than John would to cloth Sammy for a lifetime.
"Dr. Balcom. Is this Jonathon Winchester?"
"Yeah, what's it to ya?"
"Mr. Winchester… we found your son."
John stood in stunned silence for a moment, before hoarsely saying, "Repeat that?"
"We found your son, Dean Winchester."
"Wh… When?"
"Four days ago. We just matched the fingerprints."
"I… I uh…" John sat down, heart breaking as he asked, "Where'd you find him?"
"We didn't; he was brought here by a friend of his, a Sha-"
"What? He's… He's alive?" John whispered.
"Oh my God, I'm sorry, so sorry. Yes, he's alive. I should have told you that, Mr. Winchester."
"Oh, God… Oh, God… Bobby!" John yelled outside. "Bobby, they found him! Dean's alive!" He turned his attention back to the phone as Bobby dropped all their gear, and bolted into the house.
"Where is he?"
"St. Anthony's Medical Hospital, in East L.A. But Mr. Winchester… His condition is critical right now. We need you here as soon as possible."
"I'm a hundred miles out of Salem, Oregon, right now, by a little town called Rice Hill," John said woodenly, trying to figure the time. "I… I'll leave right now, I should be able to get there in… twelve hours, or so…"
"I can call the police department up there, and see if I can get you an escort. When can you be ready?"
"I'm ready now. I can be in Rice Hill in half an hour."
"Alright, I'll see you soon, Mr. Winchester."
John slowly hung up the phone, before turning to Bobby.
"We gotta go," was all he said.
Nine hours later
John flew into the hospital, Bobby and Sam close on his heels as he skidded to a stop in front of the reception area.
"I'm here to see my son, Dean Winchester," He said breathlessly.
The nurse nodded, and walked around the desk, motioning for him to follow. She stopped when she seen Sammy and Bobby.
"Sir, I think it'd be best if just you went with me for the moment," She said, glancing at Sammy, before returning her gaze to John.
John nodded impatiently. "Yeah, okay. Please, let me see my son."
"Right this way, sir."
"Is he alright?" John asked nervously as they walked down the hall.
The nurse shook her head. "He's in the ICU right now, Mr. Winchester. The doctor had to check on one of his other patients; he'll be here shortly. The other nurse is paging him right now."
"But he's gonna be alright, right?" John demanded.
The nurse hesitated. "I'd rather you wait for the doctor, Mr. Winchester. Don't worry; Dr. Balcom's one of the best doctors in L.A."
She stopped in front of a glassed off room. Painted on the glass in big, red letters were the words 'NO ADMITTANCE WITHOUT DOCTOR APPROVAL'.
John plastered his face against the glass, desperate for his first look at his son.
It was horrible.
He couldn't even tell it was Dean; he'd changed so much. He'd filled out some, grown taller… his face was fuller, and his hair was shaved at random intervals on his head, where John could see stitches. Stitches that littered his head, his face, his arms, his neck… Casts on both arms, and one leg…
"Oh my God," He whispered. "What happened?"