Final Chapter People...sadness. Oh well...much revealed...much to be explained...perhaps a sequal...I dunno. But...this is the last chapter...only the epilogue to go. Thank you so much for all the support...I really can't you...know...get to all of you...but consider yourself hugged and please...review your hearts out. Love me...and I'll write more. Tell me what you want...and I'll see if I can do it right. Wait for the epilogue...please?
Patience had never been one of Dean's strong suits.
Especially when Sammy was involved, whether it was for an application for Sammy's school, or waiting for the kid to calm down from a nightmare.
Dean never had patience when it came to Sam.
And now was no exception.
Sammy had been carried in, cradled in his fathers arms. Dean had never heard his father yell so loud, nor had he ever heard his father yell for help. Bobby hadn't said a word, but his eyes spoke the volumes of concern he had.
The doctors and nurses had come out, like swarming ants from an ant hill and whisked Sammy away. Faster than Dean had ever seen.
Things must have been serious. And it killed Dean to know that he was probably the only one who didn't have a clue what was wrong with Sammy, other than Sammy himself.
"Dad….what's wrong with Sam?" Dean asked, faintly and without too much thought behind it.
He didn't even bother looking up, but he did feel his father's eyes turn to him and scrutinize his stature.
Dean knew that he should probably try and look a little more manly, a little stronger and a little more in control. But he couldn't bring himself to try and maintain an image that was really an illusion.
"You don't need to worry about that Dean" was John's response.
Dean closed his eyes and tried to swallow the salty ball of tears that had re-lodged itself in his throat.
The inferno inside his belly had reduced to a pitiful ember that seemed to quiver along with his body, not only had his flames of anger died, but his strength seemed to have left him too.
"Don't….please….just tell me what's the matter with my baby brother…please" Dean sighed wearily.
Even Dean himself was even surprised at how old he sounded, how worn out and tired of living he sounded.
He could sense John's eyes on him, and even Bobby's cold, grey eyes were soft and sympathetic. But for a while, neither of them seemed willing to talk. They just sat and gazed at the twelve year old who had taken so much in the past day and a bit.
"Dean…" Bobby began.
But Dean could sense an excuse coming from a mile away.
"No excuses…don't you think I deserve to know?" Dean asked softly, not finding the strength in him to yell and demand and rant and rave.
"Alright, son. You have every right to know." John said softly.
He moved from his seat to the floor; kneeling in front of Dean. Slowly he raised a hand, hesitating slightly to see if Dean flinched away. But his son made no such movement and John settled his hand on Dean's shoulder. The soft look in his dark eyes was strangely foreign yet at the same time comforting and seemingly belonging.
"Dean…you need to relax….and remain calm….what Sammy has is serious….life threatening serious…" John explained slowly.
"Then why didn't Bobby take him to the hospital when he found out" Dean asked.
"Cause with this….it doesn't necessarily get this bad. Sometimes people can get over it, sometimes they don't. He wasn't sure what to do and from the news reports, the hospitals only really accept emergencies. So….he couldn't do anything but wait." John said, explaining gently and softly, adhering to Dean's fragile state.
Although he was speaking softly, Dean could sense he was still being treated like an adult.
"What is it?...Will Sammy be alright?!" Dean asked softly, terror thundering through his body.
What could possibly have gotten Sammy so sick and what could have possibly been causing all these problems.
Bigger question, why hadn't they taken Sam to the hospital as a simple precaution.
John sighed and lowered his head slightly, looking away from Dean at Bobby for some reason beyond Dean's comprehension.
"Kiddo. Have you ever heard of your appendix?" he asked softly.
Dean tilted his head to one side, considering the question. Appendix….he'd heard the word before. But couldn't really place where or what it did. He knew now that it had something to do with Sammy being so sick.
"Sorta" he said, dragging the word out to emphasis his unsureness.
He didn't realize how badly he was shaking.
"Well, the appendix is a small little….erm….thing in the body. Yeah? No one really knows what it does, but sometimes it can be a little difficult or…you know…get inflamed. But Sam's has gone a little further than that." John said softly, making eye contact with Dean.
Dean frowned, shaking his head slightly. Confused at the words, almost as if it didn't make sense. He didn't understand. If Sammy's appendix had gone further than inflammation, then why wasn't Sam in the hospital as soon as he complained of sickness and pain.
"But? Why was Sam left…why didn't you do something?" Dean asked, hating how accusatory those words sounded, yet in truth it was an accusation against them both.
"A ruptured appendix can be confused with many things Dean. And you of all people know that we cannot afford to stay in one place. I didn't recognize the symptoms and Bobby only found out that it was the appendix not long ago." John said.
'Ruptured? That sounds real bad!' Dean thought quickly
"But why didn't he take Sam to the hospital as soon as he knew?!" Dean interrupted.
"That phone call at my house, was from the doctor. Yet he had miss interpreted the symptoms too. I was out….taking care of that job when he called me back. As soon as I heard, you called, Dean. I made a decision to come back. I met John on the way back and we came together." Bobby said.
Yet being trained as a hunter, Dean could see the deception in his eyes, and the slight glances at his father told him that he was lying about something big.
Dean opened his mouth to speak, but he was never was able to get out the words as a doctor walked out of a room down the hall. He looked around and upon seeing them, walked towards them.
Mouth running dry and all questions dying on his tongue Dean swallowed and blinked a few times. He suddenly felt very small and weak. Almost as if he didn't matter to the world, that the whole world was mocking him. This man was coming to them with news about his kid brother, upon this man hinged Sam's young life. Life and death.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breathe, yet his memory had taken a vivid photo of the doctors sombre looking face.
"Mr. Winchester?" the doctor's deep voice sounded, breaking the tense silence between the hunters.
Dean kept his eyes tightly closed and wished as hard as he could for Sammy to be alright.
"Yeah" John said softly, the sound of scraping chairs on the floor indicating that they had stood up.
"Erm…there is no easy way to say this…but….I'm afraid that this situation is far worse than first anticipated. We are going to have to go in and remove the infected material. Sam is a little weak for it, but we can't wait" the doctor said.
Dean couldn't help but let out a whimper at the mention of surgery. He didn't want doctors cutting up his little brother, this wasn't meant to happen. All that was wrong with Sam was that he was a little sick. He had the Flu and nothing more. There wasn't any need for surgery, and the doctors were wrong.
But why wasn't Dean ever right when it came to Sammy.
"Dean?" he heard his name coming from his father's throat and he spared a second to open his eyes slightly.
Instantly tears began to well up and Dean suppressed a sob, with a shake of the head.
"I…I don't want Sammy…..Sammy to be cut….." Dean managed through a less than co-operative throat.
He saw the doctor give him a pitying look, yet he preferred the simple nod that John gave.
"Dean, they have to do this…" Bobby began.
Yet Dean was not looking for comfort, he was more or less demanding something. That something being not to cut Sam open.
"NO! No you can't! I won't let you!! Sammy just has the Flu!! NOTHING ELSE!! You don't need to cut him OPEN!!" Dean snarled, coming out a little louder and angrier than intended.
Bobby's face darkened and he opened his mouth to tell Dean off, yet John put his hand up to stop Bobby.
"Let me talk to him" he said softly and moved forwards.
He snagged Dean's wrist and dragged him a little way away from the others. Where he proceeded to kneel down and take Dean by the shoulders.
"Kiddo…they need to do this…" he began.
Dean shook his head quickly and John fell silent.
"No. Sammy only has the Flu! He doesn't have appendix! He's only got the FLU! Why WON'T YOU BELIEVE ME?" Dean yelled, stamping his foot.
He felt like a child, yet he had to be right. Sammy was only a kid. He wasn't meant to get this sick. He wasn't certainly not meant to be cut open by doctors.
This time Dean had to be right.
John gave him a frank look, a deep look yet full of sorrow.
"I know you wanna be right Dean….but…Sammy is really sick. He's gonna die if they don't do this. He'll get a hell of a lot worse and then he'll die Dean. If they operate on him, then Sammy will get better." John explained softly.
"But he's only a kid! He can't do that! I can't let that happen to him" Dean reasoned.
"Why can't that happen to him?" John asked.
"He'll be scared! And you told me not to let him be scared. Keep him safe, keep him safe, keep him safe. That's all I've ever been told to do. If I let this happen Dad! He'll be scared. He won't be safe anymore!" Dean said, using his logic to end this conversation.
But from the look on his father's face, John didn't agree.
"Dean….is it that you are worried Sam will be afraid….or is it that you are afraid for him?" John asked.
All thoughts stopped. Dean thought about the preposition and knew the answer almost immediately. Dean wasn't afraid for Sam. He was terrified for Sam. The thought of Sammy laying on a cold metal table, a stranger just about to cut him open chilled him to the bone.
"That's not the point!" Dean snapped.
"Yes it is" John said, his tone bordering on condescension.
Again Dean was dumbfounded by his father's stubbornness. Why was he fighting him on this, when he was so obviously right.
At that moment logic wasn't the thing coming to Dean's mind. His only impulse was to buck the authority.
"Why are you arguing with me for!" Dean snarled.
"Cause you are wrong Dean. And you need to know that. This isn't about you. This is about Sammy. I know what's going on. I've seen it before. You haven't. Dean…..you have to accept this. We have to put aside our problems and be there for Sam. Together. Not separate" John said, all seemingly in one breath.
Dean shut his mouth, knowing that he was right. Yet it wasn't the right time to argue. There was plenty of time for that later. His father was right.
"Alright" he sighed, tears shaking his voice slightly.
"Are you accepting of this now Dean? Do you understand?" John asked suspiciously.
"I suppose. I just…I just don't want Sam to be afraid…that's all" Dean said, relenting in his solitary worries.
"Sam might be afraid, but he will be in the best of hands and you can see him before and after surgery. We'll stay with him until he can leave and come with us. Alright?" John asked.
Dean nodded mutely, blinking back the burning tears.
John squeezed his son's shoulder slightly and gave him a small smile.
"He'll be fine." John said as he stood up.
Slowly they walked back to the doctor, where Dean felt the uneasy feeling settle into his stomach for the long haul.
The doctor led them down the long hall that he had come from. He walked quickly and without delay, almost as if they were running out of time.
Dean didn't know why they had to walk quick, and it occurred to him that what he did know, was so little that he didn't understand it.
When he was older, he was going to understand everything, that much he was going to make sure of.
John and Bobby walked behind Dean, almost like his guards, like they were prepared for him to try and make a run for it.
The doctor came to an abrupt halt at the very end of the hall way, stopping the rest of the group where they were. Dean looked up curiously at the doctor to try and read his expression.
But being a doctor his expression was blank and emotionless, that practised expression that they had, like the proxy expression.
It really made Dean mad.
"I'm sorry, but only one of you can go in. He's not well enough to see more than one person right now." The doctor informed in a neutral voice.
Dean turned to look up at his father and Bobby who were looking at each other. Finally John looked back to the doctor.
"Dean should go" he announced, much to Dean's surprise.
Bobby smiled down at Dean, a sort of tight smile that was forced upon his face and it made Dean shrink back slightly.
"You should go….Sammy would want you with him" John said, interrupting Dean and Bobby's stare off.
Dean simply nodded, too busy wondering why all of a sudden he was terrified of Bobby.
He turned back to the doctor, ignoring the glassy glare and listened to the warnings.
"He's going to be pretty scared son….but we've managed to get his fever down a little. So…don't be afraid of him…okay son?" the doctor said.
Despite the resentment Dean had at being called 'son' he nodded and turned to the door, keeping his mouth tightly sealed.
Slowly he then walked forwards and pushed open the door. He stepped through the doorway and allowed the door to swing shut behind him.
Whiteness assaulted his vision straight away and he narrowed his eyes against the invasion. Everything was pure, stark white.
The bed, the floor, the roof, the walls. Everything was white and it made Dean more than long for the old dusty smell and dirty house of Bobby Singer.
Yet his objective was laying in the bed, the smallest of lumps of darkness.
A small sniffle escaped Sam's form and his little body juddered slightly. Instantly, Dean started over to him.
"Sammy?" he called softly, not wanting to scare the little guy.
He seemed scared enough already.
"Dee?" came the muffled reply, as the small bundle of darkness turned over in bed and looked mournfully at his older brother.
Huge glistening eyes pierced his soul and Dean winced inwardly at the amount of fear and pain there.
"Hey there kiddo! Good to see you again" Dean said, putting up the bravest of fronts for his little brother to hang onto.
Yet Sammy reached out for Dean, little pink hands clasping the air before him as he sniffed again.
"Dee-Dee….m'scared Dee-Dee" he whimpered and in a flash, Dean had him in his arms.
'This is what I was afraid of' he thought angrily as he frowned.
"It's alright kiddo…I'm here now. Nothing is going to get you at all. Ever. Cause Dean is here now? Huh?" Dean asked, tousling Sam's dark hair.
Sam nodded slightly, before curling up into a ball as close as he could get to Dean.
They remained near each other for a long time, just relaxing in each other's embrace, drawing off the supposed good will of the other.
"Promise me it'll be alright…." Sammy begged.
Realistically Dean could not do that. He had no idea what was going to happen, nor did he now whether or not Sam was actually going to get better if they did this to him.
He didn't have that much trust in anyone but himself and Sammy. Here he was relying on a whole different party of people.
His father, Bobby, the hospital and the surgeons.
But he couldn't bear to see Sammy so crushed and terrified just because Dean was unsure of something. So he smiled and nodded.
"Of course Sammy. You'll be alright. Nothing bad is going to happen as long as I am with you" Dean said, resting his chin on top of Sam's head.
This seemed to calm the eight year old as he fell silent after that.
"It's time to go" the doctor said from the now slightly open door.
Dean looked up, realizing that he'd been with Sammy for a little over 5 minutes. Yet as he moved, Sam whimpered and tightened his grip on his shirt.
"Don't go Dee" he breathed.
Tears made the little kid's high voice, higher still and it made Dean's throat constrict painfully.
"I have to kiddo. I can't stay here all day" Dean said softly, gently unwrapping himself from Sam's arms.
He felt Sam slowly let go and wished that it wasn't so. He wished so hard that he felt his own heart breaking.
"Dee…do me a favour……please?" Sam asked tentatively.
"Of course Sam." Dean said, automatically, not worried about what it was.
"Could….you please. Look after Woobie for me….the doctors say that I can't take him in with me….but I don't want him to get lost…and I know you'll look after him good….so please….Dee…look after Woobie?" Sam asked softly, holding out the tattered and worn blanket.
Dean hesitated slightly, not because he didn't want to take Woobie, it was just the emotion of the whole situation was getting a little thick. A little more than suffocating.
But Sammy took the hesitation as a no and lowered his little head, his outstretched arm falling as he let out a small sob.
"No. No Sammy. I'll look after him…I promise" Dean said, feeling like a failure for letting Sam believe that he wouldn't be there for him for even a second.
He gently grabbed hold of the warm material and took it from Sam's hand. The child raised his head and gave him the smallest of smiles.
"Keep him safe….thank you Dee-Dee" Sam said.
Dean smiled at Sam, a more confident grin than he could actually muster consciously. He leaned down and kissed his brother on the top of his head.
"You'll be alright" Dean said.
"I love you Dee" Sam whispered as he clung needily to Dean's night shirt.
"I love you too kiddo….now….I wanna see you after this is all over…okay?" Dean said, breaking the emotion with a little spark of humour.
He felt Sam give a small laugh under him and he smiled.
At least he could do something right by Sam.
The plastic chair was merciless and unforgiving on Dean's ass and lower back. It hurt like hell and at the same time was numb. Either from emotional over load or the long term weight, Dean didn't know.
All he did was sat there and stared at the small blanket that Sam had given him to look after.
He held it tightly in fisted hands, afraid that if he let go he would loose it and a lot more. It seemed to him that if he held on tight and kept and eye on it at all times, Sammy would stay alive and everything would eventually be okay.
Gently, he rubbed his thumb over the soft material.
The blanket was made from a soft woollen material, the deepest of ocean blue. The edges of the blanket were once shining satin that was the darkest of navy blue. It used to shimmer in the morning light as he held it above his head and laugh.
Dean had been small then and the blanket new. His mother had gotten it for his cot but when it Dean had gotten too big for the cot and they had to buy him a new bed it had run out of uses. Yet Dean had been reluctant to get rid of it and it became his comfort during long cold nights, or so his father had said.
Dean could remember the fond look on his mothers face when he'd begged to keep it. They way she'd smiled and chuckled to herself. His father had simply smiled and left the decision up to Mary.
During the four years that his mother was alive, she often read to him from books. Fairy tales and lullabies from old books that smelled of dust and his mother.
While she read he kept the blanket close to his face, allowing the cool satin binding to rub up against his face and the warm woollen material to warm his body.
It had comforted him as much as his mother had, it had made her smile to see him so attached to something.
It had been new, and he had been new.
Now it was old as he was. It's ocean blue soft wool was faded and torn in areas, it's navy blue satin now ripped and fraying and worn with many years of love it too faded with the years of play amongst the Winchester clan.
Yet, as much as John said that it had to go; that it had to be thrown out. That it was old and ripped and useless.
Sammy treasured it the most out of all his possessions. Most of the time it was on his person and he kept it close to him any other time.
Sammy had been given the blanket when Dean had turned eight, and Sam had cherished it from the moment it touched his little hands.
It had been with Sammy so long that it had picked up its own distinct Sammy scent, and it calmed Dean's fraught nerves.
He raised it to his face and breathed deep the sweet childish innocent scent of Sam and the blanket.
He risked closing his eyes for the briefest of seconds and loosing himself to the smell of happier times and laughter and giggles and a healthy Sam.
But it was all torn down by the sudden sound of Bobby and John.
Dean had been alone for a long time. The adults had left to discuss something, and it was only now that they were coming back. In truth, Dean just wanted to be left alone.
He opened his jade green eyes just in time to see Bobby storm around the corner, followed closely by a dark faced John.
They were fighting. About what, Dean didn't know. All he did know was that it was a waste of time.
"Shut up John!" Bobby snarled.
"But it is true Singer! I've researched it long enough to know it is true! It's what I was chasing before you so rudely interrupted me!" John snapped.
Dean raised an eyebrow slightly.
'So that's where Bobby went…he went to help Dad' Dean thought.
"If I recall you were the one that called me for help Winchester!" Bobby said angrily.
"I didn't expect you to come out! All it was, was a simple werewolf bite!" John said.
"Next thing you know! You are a werewolf John! If I hadn't come when I did…you would be a big hairy, ugly stinking, werewolf right now! Being hunted by every hunter in the USA!" Bobby said.
Lucky there was no one around, as these two where not gonna spare anything to hurl at the other.
Dean lowered his head and tried desperately to return to a better time; no one needed this. Least of all Sam.
"I would have been fine!" John said indignantly.
"Oh really?! You are NOT invincible Winchester! Or haven't you figured that out yet?! No one is invincible! I should think that this whole situation should be a wake up call for you!" Bobby said.
John released an animalistic snarl and took a few steps towards the old hunter.
"You have some nerve Singer! Cause if I recall….you were the one that bailed out on the boys as soon as you could! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT" John yelled.
"MY FAULT? IT'S YOUR FAULT" Bobby yelled back.
Dean shuddered, anger burning through his veins.
They were acting like children, shifting the blame between the other. This was not about whose fault it was. That could be dealt with later. At that moment, they all should be worrying about little Sam; who all this was really about.
So before John could start to launch another insult at Bobby, Dean shot up from his chair, slamming it back into the wall.
"SHUT THE HELL UP!" he roared.
Silence fell as both the men looked at Dean as if he were a ghost.
Yet Dean was unfazed by their shocked expressions as he was furious. How could these two men that were so close to Sam, be so pig headed and selfish to fight at a time when Sam needed peace most desperately.
Dean felt the soft wool inside his fisted hands and it spurred him on.
"Stop fighting! No one needs this! LEAST OF ALL SAM. WE SHOULD BE LOOKING AFTER HIM. NOT FIGHTING!!" Dean yelled, his voice echoing loudly off the walls.
No doubt someone that wasn't meant to hear him, had heard him. But nothing mattered. Dean just had to make these men see that they were so wrong in what they were doing.
Bobby huffed angrily and turned on his heel before storming out of the hospital.
Dean watched him go with something measuring contempt before he turned back to his father. He was surprised to see a deep seated look of shame set into his once shameless face.
"You're right son" John sighed.
Dean was taken aback. Since when had he ever been right under his father's rule. Or…at least since he turned 12. They had been waring for 7 months and this was the first time Dean had actually been able to win something with his father.
"I am?" he asked softly.
John sighed deeply again and sat heavily down in the chair beside Dean.
"Yes….you are very right Dean. You have been….about a lot of things…..I was just so intent on being right….that….that what you said didn't matter. M'sorry about the past 7 months kid….but…its…its just….we've been looking for this thing for so long. And we still haven't found anything….it's really getting to me" John said, his voice thick with emotion.
Dean was unsure as to what to say, he had no right to comfort his father as he was the son. But, his father needed comforting and after all….Dean did love the bastard. How could he not, when they were family. So he slowly sat down beside his father.
"It's alright…we'll get it someday…but we have to have patience" Dean said softly, knowing full well that he was contradicting himself and being a total hypocrite.
But he had to say it, if no one else would think it.
John looked over at Dean slyly, with pride in his eyes. Real and unabashed pride.
"You're a smart kid Dean. You know that?" he asked.
Dean shrugged nonchalantly, before giving him a lopsided grin.
"I keep telling people, but no one seems to believe me" he joked.
John laughed out loud and wrapped an arm around Dean's shoulder.
"You're not only a smart kid…but a cheeky one too." He said.
"I learned from the best" Dean said.
John smiled.
But, Dean suddenly felt the laughter and jokes to be very, very shallow of him. Here he was, joking and laughing with his father, while his little brother was laying in the operating theatre, possibly loosing his life.
He sighed deeply and hung his head.
"What?" John asked, concern in his voice.
"It's just….I don't know what's happening to Sammy….he could be dying for all I know…and here I am laughing…." Dean said angrily, twisting a good portion on Woobie into his fist.
John watched the action with a knowing look. He then gave Dean a small shake to bring him out the guilt spiral.
"Look….Sammy will be fine. He's a really strong kid. He'll make it through and be fine on the other side. After all he is a Winchester" John said.
"I suppose" Dean said, considering this and how it wasn't really going to make a difference if he was a Winchester or a Curmi or a Allen or a Booth or even a Nunez.
It was nothing more than a last name and it didn't have an effect on how strong he was.
"And don't you think Sam would be happy that we are getting along again?" John asked.
Dean let out a small, rueful bark of laughter.
"Yeah. He would be hyper about it" Dean said softly, thinking about other times.
Before long, both the Winchesters were thinking about long forgotten memories of the little boy that was in so much danger now.
About how he first broke his wrist when playing with Dean, or about how the first time he managed to knock Dean over…with a little help from Daddy of course.
Sam seemed to make everything brighter in their family. And when he wasn't there, everything was a shade or blank or white. There was no happiness and there was no right to laugh.
Nothing but the monotonous movements of the hunt.
Dean frowned.
God….how he missed Sammy.
He turned his eyes to the blanket in his hands and took comfort in the arm of his father's that was around his shoulders. He wasn't so alone anymore. But he still felt scared.
"Mr. Winchester?" a voice broke the reveries of both Dean and John and they looked up simultaneously.
A surgeon stood before them, staring at them over glasses that where half way down his nose. Again, there was the purposefully blank expression on the doctor's face that inspired a little hate inside Dean.
"Yes?" John said hesitantly.
"I am Samuel's Surgeon. Doctor Terrafall. I have news about Sam" the surgeon said neutrally.
John rose to his feet, Dean copying his father's movements as they waited impatiently for the outcome of the surgery.
Crushing defeat and loneliness and over whelming happiness and jubilation lined up inside Dean and listened intently.
"Go on" John muttered softly.
Dean could feel the tension rolling off his father in waves. Yet he kept his eyes fixed firmly on the man before him.
"We were a little concerned about how unstable Samuel's condition was when he arrived in theatre, yet…..he has proven to be a strong child….one of the strongest I have seen for quite a while. I am proud to announce that your son has made it through surgery without any complications and he is now resting in the Recovery Unit, expected to make a full recovery with a few weeks" the surgeon said.
Relief washed over Dean as he let out a breath he'd been holding in unconsciously.
Sammy was going to be alright.
That's all that mattered.
Dean didn't notice that he was falling, until his father's strong hands grabbed hold of him and helped him back up and into a seat.
"Easy son. Take it easy" John said softly.
The surgeon cast John a critical look.
"He's a little overwhelmed, that's all…." John said, narrowing his eyes at the accusatory surgeon.
The man simply nodded and walked away.
Dean took a few deep breathes, before letting out a small whoop of joy.
"He's going to be okay Dad! He's going to be alright!!" Dean said happily, smiling properly for the first time in a while.
John grinned back, real happiness within his ebony eyes.
"Yeah….I knew the tyke would do it. Come on….he's in the recovery Unit. Let's be there, when he wakes up." John said standing up.
He offered a hand to Dean and the younger of the two present Winchesters took it without thought.
At that moment, he was happy to do anything.
If he was asked to, he'd probably fly to the moon and back on a bird. Or swim in the Arctic sea.
Anything.
Just because Sammy was alright.
Dean hardly remembered the trip down to the Recovery Unit as he was too busy bounding up and down on the balls of his feet.
He considered all the angst and tears that had been shed during that night and how relieved and happy he was now that Sam was alright.
Not only was Sam alright, but he'd made some sort of peace with his father and no longer felt the resentment towards the man as he had before.
Everything he'd done, he'd done for their own good. And if it wasn't, Dean couldn't blame the man for getting wrapped up in the heat of the hunt. Cause that stuff was like a drug.
One little taste and you're hooked. Especially if you were a Winchester.
'Yeah. Being a Winchester must make you different. Make you stronger. It matters a hell of a lot!' Dean thought through the haze of hyperactivity in his brain.
He vaguely heard his father talking to someone, as they stood at a large desk. He heard a woman laugh and saw her point to a small room that was just in beside them.
Dean laughed and ran over to the door, before John could say anything.
"Hey! Wait up there Deuce." John said happily, jogging across the room to catch up to his son.
Dean looked back watching his father come over.
"I was told that he's about to wake up." John said.
Dean nodded and pushed open the door and walked inside. He heard John walk in behind him.
His eyes locked onto his little brother, still the same darkish lump that lay in the bed. Standing out against the stark whiteness and making the room appear a little more fuller.
Dean crept over to him, a little apprehensive all of a sudden. He didn't want to really disturb Sammy too much as no doubt he was weak. He wondered how much he'd hurt after all the pain killers wore off.
John though, was smiling as he looked down on Sam.
"He looks a lot better….a lot healthier and a lot more peaceful now" John said softly.
He ghosted a hand over Sam's forehead and smiled even wider at the lack of fever there.
Dean stiffened as he watched Sam shift slightly, moaning as he came around. He looked up at his father and John gave a small nod.
"Sammy?" Dean asked, laying his bigger hand over Sammy's smaller one.
Instantly he got a reaction, as Sammy moaned again and squirmed under the covers. He whimpered stilled again as the movement burned his new wound.
"Sammy come on kiddo" Dean enticed, softly as he gently caressed the small digits of Sam's small hand.
Slowly, his eyes fluttered open, clouded hazel irises focused upon Dean and John.
A small smile crossed his face as he blinked sleepily.
Dean looked up at his father with a grin and John winked at his older son.
"Hey there Kiddo" John said softly.
Sam watched them for a second before he said anything. He gazed at John and then his eyes locked onto Dean and he smiled a little wider.
"Hi" he breathed, before his little eyes drooped closed.
He looked like he was 4 again, trying desperately to stay awake and be a big boy like his brother and his father.
"You need some sleep Sammy." Dean said, voicing his and his father's thoughts.
Yet the noise seemed to rouse Sam again as he opened his eyes slightly and stared at Dean with something that resembled expectancy. Dean raised his eyebrow in a silent question.
"Can I have Woobie back Dee-Dee?" Sam asked.
Dean couldn't help but laugh at his brother's audacity. He lay a hand on Sam's forehead and grinned happily.
"Sure you can kiddo….when you catch me" Dean said slyly.
Sam smiled back at him, before Dean gently placed the blanket in his brother's hand, where Sam instantly clasped onto not only the blanket but the warm digits of Dean's hand.
"Love you" he whispered.
"Yeah….I know you do. Love you to Sammy" Dean said.
"Get some sleep Sam. You need it" John said.
"Love you Daddy" the little boy said before John could say anything more.
"I do too Sammy. Now go to sleep. Me and Deuce will be here for ya." John said.
As Sam dropped into a deep, peaceful sleep. Dean smiled happily. He felt a little better about all the mistakes he'd made over the past few days. Sammy was on the mend and their father was back with them and didn't seem too eager to leave them anytime soon. When Sam woke up again, he'd tell the little kid proudly about how they had made up and were no longer fighting.
He could already imagine the next town and the next hotel they would stay in.
He could imagine Sammy's giggles as Dean did stupid things, made sarcastic jokes and snide comments.
He could imagine laughing at Sammy's innocence and the insane conclusions he came up with.
He couldn't wait.
THE END
So...that's the last Chapter people. Only epilogue and I am almost there. Hope you loved it as much as I did. But...sadness that it is over. Review please...and Dean will love you...and Sam will too!!!