Chapter 9
Thank you once again to Soar for here awesome beta work and to Sinead-Conlan and ImCalledZorro for their medical suggestions. Any left over mistakes are entirely my own.
Disclaimer: Stil don't own them.
Earlier that evening... 12:10 am
John Winchester glanced at his watch for the 10th time in the last 10 minutes. It wasn't like Dean to be late. The boy knew the rule about being out after midnight and John was really starting getting antsy. Midnight until dawn was a prime time for all manner of supernatural beings. Dean might be training as a hunter, but he was still just a kid, more importantly, he was John's kid, and he still had a lot to learn. He couldn't help but look down at his watch again. 12:11 am. He was just about to go ask Bobby for a loan of his car, so he could go look for his son, when Bobby joined him and announced that Dean had just called to say that he was on his way home and should be there shortly.
"Don't be too hard on him, Johnny," Bobby said trying to mediate on Dean's behalf.
"He knows the rule, Bobby. He agreed to it," John replied.
"He did the responsible thing. He called so you would know where he was at. He was probably having a good time and just lost track of the hour. It's only 10 minutes," Bobby reasoned.
"I appreciate your your concern," John said sincerely. "If it was just 10 minutes, I wouldn't have had a big problem, but it's probably going to be closer to 1am before he gets here. What if something happens to him?" John said trying to sound like a disciplinarian rather than a concerned father.
"Dean can take care of himself. The odds of anything happening to him a small," Bobby said.
"He's still a kid and anything can happen," John said.
"He'll be fine," Bobby said firmly.
John wished he could be as confident as his friend. He knew that if Bobby thought for one second that Dean was in danger, he would be the first the try and rescue him, no questions asked, even if it meant giving up his own life. Although he would have done the same with Sammy, there was no doubt among the Winchesters that Dean was Bobby's favourite and that he had a protective streak toward his eldest. John often wondered why Sam never seemed to show any jealously over this fact. If John had asked his youngest though, he would have received a simple answer, Sam was Dean's favourite and that was good enough for him.
"I'm holding you to that," John stated firmly.
"Good. I'm going to go make sure the dogs are secure for the night, I'll be right back," Bobby said as he exited the room.
John glanced at his watch once more. It was 12:47 am and he finally heard the familiar rumble of the Impala coming up the drive. Breathing a sigh of relief, John was waiting by the door when Dean walked in.
"I'm sorry, dad," he said contritely as he walked through the door. "I just lost track of the time."
"You know the rule," John said in a forced tone as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.
"I'm sorry," Dean apologized again. "Did Bobby give you the message?"
"Yes. It was responsible of you to call, I will give you that," John conceded.
Dean really hoped that his father wasn't gearing up for a lecture, he was feeling worse by the minute. His throat felt like he had swallowed sandpaper, it was so dry, and the pain in his stomach was getting worse. He felt that if he didn't lie down soon, he was going to collapse. John uncrossed his arms and walked toward the window, never really looking at his son. He opened the curtains and peered out into the darkness, his mind thinking of all the things that could be lurking out there.
"Three days, no Impala, right?" Dean said. He was hoping that by jumping right to the punishment, his dad would agree and send him to bed. He really needed to use the washroom, and if he waited much longer... well it wasn't going to be pleasant.
"Yup," John agreed. "Plus, you're grounded for the next three days, as well." He kept his gaze focused out the window, he was worried that he might say something he would regret if he faced his son, besides, if Dean was grounded, John could keep an eye on him.
"But dad," Dean protested. "Me, Todd, Miranda and Kelsey were planning to go to the movies."
"You break your promise and your curfew, and you think you should be allowed to go the movies. Forget it, Jonathan Dean, discussion closed," John said, his temper rising. This was something he expected from Sam, he wasn't used to it coming from Dean. When Sam had been caught drinking, John had let himself calm down overnight, it was only fair that Dean get the same courtesy. "Go to bed. We'll talk in the morning."
Dean was about to protest again, but he really was in no shape to get into it with his father, plus he didn't want his dad asking his about what he had eaten that evening, or his blood sugar reading. He wouldn't have been able to lie. "Yes sir," Dean muttered with as much respect as he could muster and he went towards his room. He knew he should get his spare bottle of insulin out of Bobby's fridge and take his meds, but in order to get to the kitchen, Dean would have to walk past his father, drawing attention to himself, and he really wanted to avoid that, so he went to the washroom, took a long drink from the tap and went to bed, hoping he would feel better in the morning.
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John was jolted out of his sound sleep. He looked up and saw his youngest son standing by his bed. He glanced toward his beside clock and saw that it was 2:37 am.
"What are you doing up, Sammy?"
That's when Sam said the four words that struck fear into John. "Something's wrong with Dean."
Instantly awake, John jumped out of bed. "What's wrong with him?" John demanded in a tone that was none too gentle.
"I don't...I don't know," Sam said, his lips quivering and eyes filling with tears. Hell, if he didn't know better, he would have sworn that his father was about to panic. John Winchester never panicked and it scared him. "I got up to use the bathroom and he was lying on his side, clutching his stomach like he had a stomach ache. I asked what was wrong and he said that he was fine, but he's not, dad, you can tell. He sounds really shaky and he's sweating like he has a fever, but he doesn't because he's really pale," Sam managed to say. He wanted his dad to fix Dean. His dad could fix anything.
"Sammy, go wake Bobby. I'm going to check on your brother," John instructed forcibly.
John set a new land speed record running down the hall to his sons' room. He flicked on the light and realized exactly what Sam was talking about. Dean was sheet white, not an ounce of color anywhere and there was a fine sheen of sweat covering his forehead. John put the back of his hand to Dean's forehead, checking for fever. He found none. Had he looked like this when he came in? John couldn't honestly remember. The last time he had seen Dean looking like this was when his blood sugar had dropped too low.
"Do you need a glucose shot, Dean?" John tried to ask.
"NOO!!!" Dean cried out. More sugar was the last thing he needed.
John was taken aback by the vehemence of Dean's cry. "Dad, it hurts," Dean said in a voice that made him sound like a little boy.
"Where, son?" John asked gently.
"Stomach," Dean said through clenched teeth. Despite the fact that his dad was going to kill him when he found out what he had done, Dean was glad his father was there, he could fix anything. "I think I'm going to...' With that, Dean raised his hands to his mouth, trying to stop the inevitable.
John reacted instantly, grabbing the trash can and helping Dean to lean over it. Dean stopped fighting and he instantly rejected everything that was in his stomach.
"It's okay, Dean," John said lightly, supporting his eldest and rubbing his back in small circles, trying to offer what comfort he could.
"Johnny," Bobby said as he and Sam came in the room, just as Dean's stomach revolted once more. He came over and knelt beside John.
"Sam, grab your brother's glucose meter. Bobby, can you stay with him? I want to call his doctor," John said. He felt helpless and issuing orders was allowing him to take back some measure of control. He rose and felt Dean's grip on him tighten.
"Bobby," John said, as he read the hidden meaning. Don't leave me.
"I'll call his doctor, Johnny. He needs you," Bobby said reading his friend's thoughts as well as Dean's actions as he reluctantly left the room.
"Dad, it's not in the drawer," Sam said as he stood by open dresser where Dean kept his supplies.
John tried to remember if Dean had had his injection kit in his hand when he came in. He had been so focused on controlling his temper he hadn't noticed. "Run and check the car, he may have left it there. Hurry, Sam," John instructed. Sam took off out the door. This was one order he didn't need to be told twice.
"I'm sorry, dad," Dean moaned. "I screwed up."
"Easy, son," John said gently as helped Dean to lie back down.
"John," Bobby called as he returned to the room. "I got a hold of Dr. Conlan's answering service. They're going to page him and have him call us back." He turned his attention back to Dean. "How you doing, big guy?"
"Not so good," Dean said honestly. "I screwed up," he repeated.
John really didn't like the way his son looked. If it were possible, he was even paler. Hurry up, Sammy. "Bobby, new plan, I'm not waiting for his doctor, we're taking him to the hospital. Can you help me get him to the car?"
"Sure," Bobby agreed just as Sam came back into the room.
"Here, dad," he said handing John the glucose meter. He was debating whether or not to show his dad the vials of ruined insulin. He didn't want to get his brother in trouble, but if they were destroyed, it was possible that Dean hadn't had any. He had to tell his father. "Um, dad," Sam added and held out the two ruined vials.
John cursed, as did Bobby. They both came to the same conclusion that Sam had. John, at that moment, also noticed Dean's wrist which only sported the carnival bracelet. God, damn that kid. Calm down,John, you can kill him after you find out he's alright.
John quickly tested Dean's blood sugar and he felt his fear ratchet up another notch when it just read high. That meant Dean's meter didn't go high enough for Dean's reading to register. It only went as high as 300. Seeing Dean's readings over his father's shoulder, Bobby's thoughts echoed John's. He better be alright so I can kill him myself. Seeing that Dean's blood sugar was higher than when he had been diagnosed, John grabbed his son, with Bobby's help and bolted for the car, Sam right behind them.
John sat in the back seat, while Bobby drove. They ended up having to pull over twice more on the way when Dean's stomach revolted. John sat with Dean cradled next to him. He had never felt more helpless.
It didn't take them long to reach the hospital, pulling up in front of the emergency doors in a squeal of protesting rubber. They quickly scrambled to escape the car and John finally burst through the doors to the ER and explained his son's condition. It wasn't long before an orderly approached with a guerney. John laid his son down, and before he could say anything, Dean was whisked away behind a swinging door.
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Dean knew he was in a hospital room before he even opened his eyes. He could feel the tell-tale signs of an IV in his hand, actually, it felt like he had them in both hands. There was also something stuck inside his elbow that was bugging him. He forced his eyes open, only to be met with the sight of two IV poles. He was right, he did have one in the back of each hand. The pole on the left had two bags and to one of them was attached to a third line running into the inside of his elbow. He cast his thoughts back, wondering what had brought him there. The events of the previous night were a blur, he remembered going to bed, his father coming into the room, throwing up and that was about it. He cursed his luck. How could I be so stupid? God, I'm such a worthless screw up.
He wanted to tell his father how sorry he was and looked around for him, and that's when he realized that his father wasn't there. He hated hospitals, but even more, he hated being alone when he was in one. It made him feel forgotten. His dad must be really pissed if he had left him alone. Not that I blame him. I would have left my sorry ass too, Dean tried to tell himself. It didn't work. He was getting restless and just as he was about to pull out the multiple IVs he was attached to, Bobby walked in the room.
"Morning, son," Bobby said lightly.
"Where's dad?" was Dean's reply.
Bobby could see how tense Dean was. There were only two other people besides John that knew the full story of why Dean didn't like to be by himself in a hospital room. John had confided in him and Pastor Jim. Even Sam didn't know the whole story and he wasn't even sure how much Dean remembered himself. "Relax, kiddo, your dad didn't leave your side all night. He's just out in the hall talking to your doctor. They'll be here in a minute," Bobby said trying to reassure the young Winchester. Bobby was relieved when Dean visibly relaxed.
"Where's Sammy?" Dean then asked. Bobby and his dad were here and they wouldn't have left Sam home by himself.
"Asleep down the hall, in the nurses' station. You father had to pry him from your side. He's fine."
"Good," Dean said as his right hand started to creep toward the needle inserted into the back of his left.
"Dean, leave it," Bobby instructed firmly.
"It itches," he complained.
"Still, leave it before you pull it out," Bobby said as he placed his hand on Dean's to stop him and waited for the inevitable question.
"When can I get out of here?" Dean asked.
"When your dad says," Bobby answered vaguely. He had known it was coming. Fortunately, the elder hunter was saved from being interrogated further when John, the doctor and Sam entered the room.
"Good morning, Dean. I'm Dr. Alex Conlan. How are you feeling?"
Dean could feel his fathers glare. "Not so hot," he admitted.
"It's not surprising. Your blood sugar was well over the three hundred range. It's a good thing your father brought you in when he did, you were in diabetic ketoacidosis. That's when your blood becomes more acidic than your body tissue. I'm guessing Dr. Doyle covered this," the doctor said.
"Yeah," Dean mumbled as his hand moved toward the IV needle again.
"Can you explain to me why you didn't take you insulin dose?" Dr. Conlan asked.
Dean just shrugged. His hand was now at the edges of the tape.
"Dean," John said in a warning tone.
Reading the hidden meaning that clearly told Dean to answer the doctor and quit playing with his tubes, Dean dropped his hands to his sides and gave a long suffering sigh. He wished they would all just go away and leave him alone. Well maybe dad can stay. "When can I go home?" he asked.
"I'll make you a deal, you answer my question, and I'll answer yours?" Dr. Conlan offered.
"I want to go home," Dean said addressing his father and ignoring the doctor.
"When Dr. Conlan says you can," John answered.
"Dean, why did you skip your injection last night?" the doctor repeated.
"He was out with friends last night. He probably just didn't want to call attention to himself. Right?" Bobby answered, eliciting a frown from both John and the doctor. He didn't like seeing Dean looking so dejected.
Dean gave an almost imperceptible nod. "What happens now?" John asked.
"We'll continue to treat Dean with IV fluids. We have to replace the fluid he's lost as his body was working to expel the excess sugar. That's why he was sweating and vomiting and he lost a lot of nutrients as well. That's why you're getting this IV, Dean. We're toping off your potassium and electrolytes." Dr Conlan said pointing. "That's an Insulin feed tube. It's feeding insulin directly into your blood stream and I'm going to leave it in for another 24 hours. Your blood sugar's still way higher than where I would like it to be. Depending on your readings, we'll remove it tomorrow and start you back on your injections, you're getting a break from them today."
"Oh goody," Dean mumbled sarcastically, drawing yet another glare from his father.
"My nurse should be in with your breakfast soon," the doctor said.
"I'm not hungry," Dean informed the room.
"It doesn't matter. You know you have to eat," Dr. Conlan said.
"Fine," Dean muttered and turned toward the wall, his back to everyone, effectively telling them he was done talking.
"You can page me if you have any questions. Mr. Winchester, can I see you for a moment?"
"Sure," John said as he rose from his chair.
"Sorry, I meant your brother."
Since only family was allowed to visit, they had kept up the cover story that John and Bobby were brothers. "Call me Bobby," he said as he followed the doctor in the hallway, not bothering to correct his mistake.
"Bobby, you and your nephew seem close."
"We are."
"I hope you don't take what I'm about to say the wrong way, but I need to ask you to refrain from answering when I ask Dean a question," Dr. Conlan informed Bobby.
Bobby scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "It's just, I know him. You wouldn't have gotten one and just succeeded in upsetting him," Bobby informed the doctor.
"I know. I wanted him to react," Dr. Conlan explained. "Now, before you get upset, let me explain. I knew the answer to my question before I even asked it. Your brother told me Dean was out with friends at a carnival last night, but I wanted him to admit why he had done it. It's the only way he's going to accept the fact that he has diabetes."
"He knows he has it," Bobby said defensively.
"I didn't say that," the doctor corrected. "I said accept. I can understand not wanting to be different and stick out among your friends, but the fact is, he has to look after himself. DKA can be fatal. He was lucky he came in last night. He can't put his body through this every time he goes out," Dr. Conlan said.
"I think he learned his lesson," Bobby said defending John's eldest.
"You'd be surprised. Answer me this, Bobby, what if he went out tomorrow and was faced with the same situation?"
Bobby could see what the doctor was talking about and he honestly had to admit that it was most likely that Dean would never admit to someone that he was diabetic. He didn't agree with the doctor's response that Dean hadn't accepted his disease though. He just didn't want to admit what he perceived as a weakness.
"I don't mean to sound harsh. I know Dean means a lot to you, I can tell. I'll back a little later. Please, think about want I said."
"I will, doc, thanks," Bobby said as he went back to Dean's room.
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The morning passed really slowly for Dean. It seemed like he was being stuck with something sharp every time he moved. Sam spent the morning with his brother, so John could make a run back to Bobby's and get some supplies, but Bobby remained behind as well. Dean was grateful for their presence, as he was dreading being left by himself with his father as much as he also craved the older man's reassuring presence. He knew he had a lecture coming and that he deserved it, but that didn't mean he had to like it.
It came much too soon for his liking. Bobby had to go out of town over night, he was going to see Jefferson Ames, a fellow hunter, to help with a poltergeist. He promised he would be back early the next morning though. He didn't like leaving with Dean in the hospital, but a 14 year old girl had already been badly hurt and it had to be taken care of before someone ended up dead.
Needing caffeine, Bobby volunteered to run down the cafeteria for some coffee. He had a couple of hours before he had to leave.
"Hey, Sammy," John said addressing the youngest. "I want you to get some experience with poltergeists so I'm going to let you to tag along with Bobby."
Sam didn't really think this was a good idea. He was not into hunting like the rest of his family, plus Dean was in the hospital and Sam didn't want to leave his big brother's side. "Do I have to?" he asked, even though he knew the answer.
"I want to…" Dean tried. He really wanted to go.
"Sure and you can take your friend Ivy with you," John said sarcastically as he motioned to Dean's IV pole and pronounced the initals like the name.
"Doc can pull 'em. I feel better," Dean said obstinately.
"Nice try. We talked about this, Dean. Even if you weren't in here, you still wouldn't be going," John insisted. "No hunting until..."
"Yeah, yeah, no hunting until I'm stable," Dean interrupted. Like that'sever going to happen,he mumbled under his breath, so low thatno one heard him.
"Dean, attitude," John warned, earning himself a half-hearted sorry from his eldest. "You should go with Bobby, Sammy. You've only hunted one poltergeist, it would be good experience for you."
"I don't want to," Sam immediately protested.
"I'll take his place," Dean offered once again.
John wanted to scream at his boys' stubbornness. They must get that from their mother. Whatever you need to tell yourself, John. "Samuel, Jonathan Dean, enough," John said forcibly. "Sam, you're going hunting with Bobby, Dean you're not, end of discussion."
"But, dad," both boys said at once.
"What part of the words end of discussion didn't you understand?"
"I don't want to leave Dean," Sam said, ignoring his father's words.
"Dean's going to be fine, Sammy."
"Sam's grounded, how can he be allowed to go?" said Dean with a sulk. This was so not fair. Sam got to go on the werewolf hunt and now this one, and he didn't even want to.
"Because I'm the father and I make the rules," John said letting frustration creep into his voice.
"Here, Johnny," Bobby said as he came into the room and handed John his caffeine, and an iced tea for Sam. He felt bad that he didn't have anything for Dean, but he didn't want to interfere with whatever treatment plan the doctor had him on, and he wasn't sure what Dean was allowed, or not allowed to have. "What happened?" he questioned as he felt the tension between all three Winchesters.
"Sam wants go on the hunt with you," John said with a glare towards his youngest son, as if daring him to contradict him.
"Yeah," Sam mumbled.
Bobby knew the truth, there was no way Sam wanted to leave. Dean was sick and there was no way Sam would volunteer to leave his side. "I would love to have you, Sammy," Bobby said speaking the truth. He knew Sam was a capable hunter, even if it wasn't his favourite thing.
"John, you know this poltergeist is a nasty piece of work?" he asked. "It would be dangerous."
"I know, but Dean dealt with one when he was 11. Sam needs this, just please keep an eye on him," John said.
Bobby was worried. He had no choice but to go, but he really didn't want to leave John alone with Dean right now. He knew father and son had to have a talk, but this was the worst time. John was angry, not that Bobby really blamed him, Dean had messed up big time yesterday. The biggest concern Bobby had was that John was scared, terrified that something could have happened to one of his sons and when John Winchester felt like that, it came out as anger. In addition to that, John was going to worry while Sam was hunting.
"You sure, Johnny?" Bobby asked.
"Yeah," John said. He knew that Bobby would look after Sam and while John had a few personal issues with Jefferson's approach to hunting, he was a good man and an excellent hunter and John knew that he would look out for Sam as well. After all, he had saved John's life once before.
Knowing that his father's mind was made up, Sam said goodbye reluctantly and followed Bobby out the door and Dean finally found himself alone with his father.
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Before John could start, Dean's nurse, Helen, came in for a blood sugar check and informed father and son that it was 213. His IVs were almost empty, so she replaced the fluids. Dean was relieved when she didn't replace the other bag and instead pulled the needle from the back of his hand.
"Alright, Dean," John said seriously when the nurse vacated the room. "I'm not going to ask what the hell you were thinking last night because obviously, you just weren't. Just tell me why?"
Dean almost pointed out to his father that they were the same question, but fortunately for him, he restrained himself from doing so. It wouldn't have gone over too well. Dean stared at his hands and once again started playing with the IV line in the left. "I blew it," Dean said.
"Darn right you did, but that doesn't answer my question?" John persisted.
I didn't want to stand out. "No reason," he said out loud.
"You don't do anything without a reason, now spill. It's an order."
"I um, I wanted..."
"Good evening," Dr. Conlan said brightly, stepping into the room.
He couldn'thave just waited five more damn minutes. "Hey Doc," John greeted.
"I just saw the results of Dean's latest blood work. Your blood sugar's coming down nicely. If you continue to improve, we should be able to remove the feed line tomorrow as scheduled."
"Can I go home?' asked Dean stubbornly.
"Not for a few days. That's part of the reason I'm here. I want to discuss Dean's new insulin regime with you," the doctor explained.
"My what?" Dean asked. He didn't like the sound of that.
"I took a close look at your diary and I've noticed that for the most part, you're running high, which means you're not getting enough insulin, so rather than just increasing the number of units again, I want to try spreading it out more throughout the day."
When he was done, Dean learned that he was now required to take four injections per day, in the morning, before lunch, before dinner and before bed. Great, as if dad wasn't having a hard enough time, now I'm gonna go through everything faster.
Dr. Conlan could see the look of guilt come over his patient. "Look Dean, last night certainly didn't help, but it's not the only reason I'm making this change. I'm basing it on the pattern of your readings.
Dean froze at this remark. Some of them weren't entirely accurate. It looked like he was going to have to admit what he had done. He wondered if the doctor had the phone number for witness protection, he was going to need it after this.
"Um, I um, that is I..."
"What is it, son?" John asked when he noticed that Dean was really starting to fidget.
"Some of those reading aren't entirely accurate," he admitted.
"God damn it, Dean," John growled.
"How many?" Dr. Conlan said sharply as he laid Dean's diary on the table, indicating that he wanted Dean to show him which ones.
"Two," he replied truthfully, pointing out his reading on the day after they arrived at Bobby's and the one when he awoke yesterday.
"You're sure that's it?" the doctor asked sceptically.
"Yes," Dean said softly.
"It's really important that you tell me the truth here. Did you change any others?"
"He told he didn't," John suddenly snapped firmly. He didn't appreciate this doctor insinuating that Dean was lying.
"It shouldn't have an impact. Just make sure that everything's accurate from now on. We have to know the truth if you're going to start feeling better. I want to keep you here and monitor your blood sugar closely to see if the new schedule's working, or if we need to adjust it again," Dr. Conlan said. "I'm going to send for the dietician in a bit, to go over the adjustments in Dean's diet. Mr. Winchester, can I see you for a moment please."
"Sure. Dean I'll be right back."
"Me and Ivy will be waiting," Dean replied.
"You better be," John warned as he followed the doctor out in the hall. "What's up?" he asked the doctor once they cleared the doorway.
"I just wanted to run this idea by you."
"What's that?"
"Dean's an athlete, right?"
"Yes," John admitted. It was technically true.
"I've been working with diabetics for almost 20 years and I've seen all manner of patients. One of the biggest things I've noticed with athletes is that they're most worried about suffering from hypoglycaemia during a game and letting their team down, so most tend to go outside their diet plans and over eat, causing hyperglycaemia. So what I want to do is start Dean on physio. Let him see in a controlled environment that following his meal plan and exercising is not going to cause him to have a hypo. I have tried this in the past and it has worked."
"That sounds like a great idea. Just one thing," John said as he signed the permission slip that the doctor handed to him.
"What's that?" the doctor asked.
"The next time you want to discuss my son's treatment, make sure he's included in the conversation." With that, John went back into the room and explained the plan to Dean. He didn't have the same enthusiasm as his father though.
Claiming he was tired, Dean rolled over and asked his dad if they could talk when he woke up. John knew that Dean must be feeling really miserable if he was willing to take a nap, so he agreed and pulled the covers up around his son's shoulders, patting the young man roughly.
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A couple of hours later, Dean awoke. He looked over and saw his dad watching TV. It was really tempting for the young hunter to pretend to remain asleep, but he knew that his dad was not going to be put off forever. May as well get it over with.
"Hey dad," Dean said as he rubbed the sleep out his eyes.
"Hey son. Feeling better?" John asked.
"A bit. I'd sleep better if I was in my own bed though."
"Drop it, Jonathan Dean," John said firmly.
"Sorry sir," Dean said, but not sounding as if meant it.
A quick glance at the clock showed it was nearing time for Dean's evening snack. Not wanting to risk getting interrupted again, John waited until Dean had eaten and had his evening check up. He was ecstatic to hear that Dean's blood sugar had dropped below 200.
"You were lucky that you didn't do any permanent damage," John commented.
"I know," Dean said contritely, not looking at his father.
"Look, I know it must be hard, but you have to start taking better care of yourself," John started his lecture.
No, you don't, you can't know. "I won't do it again, dad, I promise."
"Right now, that doesn't mean much to me. You promised to follow the conditions when you went out and you didn't."
"I'm sorry dad, I... oops," Dean suddenly blurted out. The eldest Winchester looked down at Dean's hands. He could see red seeping out from behind the tape that held Dean's IV needle in place. It didn't take long to realize that Dean had been playing with it again and accidentally pulled it out.
"Dean," John started. "Never mind," he said as he pressed the call button for the nurse.
Helen came and changed Dean's IV to his other hand. He got a lecture on the importance of leaving his tubes alone, and she let him know that if he touched it again, she was going to bind it, like they did with young children. Dean couldn't believe it when he found himself missing Betty.
"Dean, you listening to me?" John addressed his son when Helen left.
"Yes sir," Dean said.
"There's going to be some new ground rules. From now on, whenever it's time for your injection, or to test your blood sugar, you're going to find me or Bobby so that we can make sure you're doing it. You're not to go anywhere without me or Bobby, so we can make sure that you're not eating stuff you're not supposed to, and you're to ask and make sure I know what your blood sugar reading is before you eat so much as a carrot stick. Are we clear?" John lectured.
The young hunter lay in his bed in a state of shock. Was his dad serious?
"Dean," John prompted.
"Yes sir," he mumbled, his eyes anywhere but on his father.
"It's going to be a long time before you earn back my trust," John commented harshly.
Dean couldn't help himself and he gave a loud scoff. "Like I had it in the first place," he mumbled just loud enough for his father to hear.
"Excuse me," John said as he glared at his eldest.
Dean knew he should tell his father his he was sorry, but something in him wouldn't let him say the words. "I. Said. I. Never. Had. It." Dean repeated slowly. Shut up.
"You want to clarify that, Jonathan Dean," John said, trying to keep his temper in check.
"How can I lose your trust when I never had it in the first place?" Dean said, throwing the words back at his father. His own temper rising.
"I trusted you," John said slightly bewildered by his son's attack.
"Yeah, right. That's why every time I turned around it was 'Dean, it's time for your insulin,' 'Dean check your blood sugar.' 'Dean, did you eat?' You all kept telling me it is my disease and I need to learn how to manage it, but none of you would let me," Dean started forcibly.
"Look, Jonathan Dean, that's enough. This isn't easy, I know that..."
"NOYOU DON"T!!!!" Dean finally exploded. Weeks of burying every feeling he had came bubbling to the surface and he erupted like a volcano. "You don't know what it's like. You can't know. You don't have to take needles every day, you don't have to prick your fingers and test yourself. You don't have to consider every God damn piece of food you put in your mouth. Do you know what it's like, feeling like you're the cause of your family's financial problems? Do you know what it's like to go to school and have people afraid to come near you? My lab partner didn't even want to touch the same equipment I did. Do you what it's like be accused of being a junkie? Did you know that they stuffed my locker full of sugar? Do you know what hypos feel like, or the worry of having one at the worst possible time? Are you chained to syringes and insulin vials like I am? Do you have to make sure you carry all that crap with you every time you walk out the front door? Do you want to know why I did what I did? I didn't want to be the center of attention for once. I wanted to be myself. I wanted to hunt that werewolf, dad. I wanted it bad. It was important to me and I want to hunt this summer, and I can't because of this STUPID DISEASE! I HATE IT! I HATE ALL OF IT!" With that, Dean grabbed his walkman off his bedside table and hurled it against the wall. After his outburst, Dean collapsed back on his pillow, completely spent. He immediately turned on his side, away from his dad. He couldn't believe he had said all that out loud.
At the end of Dean's tirade, John was speechless. He cursed himself for allowing Dean to bury all of that. He should have paid more attention to his son, rather than his son's blood sugar readings, and they might have avoided this situation. He owed Dean a big apology, Sam as well. John suddenly wished that he hadn't sent Sam on this hunt. He found himself missing his youngest son and the calming influence he had on his brother. He walked over to the other side of the bed and pulled a chair over. He placed a hand on Dean's shoulder.
"I'm sorry," his eldest mumbled with his eyes closed.
John really wished that Bobby was here now. He wasn't good with touchy, feely, emotional stuff. "Don't be sorry, buddy. You needed to get that out and you know what? You're right."
This caused Dean to open his eyes. He had to make sure he had heard that right. He just stared at his dad. "I did say you're right," John confirmed. "I don't know what it's like for you. There are people who do though. I talked to Dr. Conlan last night and he said that there's a..."
"I don't want to go to any stupid support group. I just want to be left alone," Dean said stubbornly.
"Dean, I want you listen to me. It was never a matter of trust, bud. I did trust you. I was just scared, Dean."
This surprised Dean more than his father admitting he was right. His dad was never scared.
"Is everything all right in here?" Helen said as she stepped into the room, she had heard the yelling.
Not this time. No one was interrupting this. "Everything's fine. He just dropped his walkman," John said giving her the eye. His meaning was clear. Get out.
"Visiting hours are over soon," Helen said as she left the room.
"Dean, it would kill me if anything happened to you or your brother. You two are my whole world. I could see you suffering and I couldn't do a damn thing about it, so I took control the only way I know how. Giving orders. I'm sorry, son."
"Me too," Dean conceded with a small smile. "That's what Bobby said."
"He's a smart man," John agreed.
"Don't tell him that…" Dean said.
"It might go to his head," John finished and returned his son's smile.
"Did you mean all that stuff you said?" Dean asked tentatively.
"Let's discuss it when you get home. I'm sure we can find some way for me to feel in control and for you to feel like I trust you."
"'Kay. I'd like that," Dean admitted softly. John could see that Dean was fading once again, his outburst having taken its toll.
"You get some sleep. I, ah, I love you, Dean," John said roughly with a rare show of emotion.
"Me too, dad," Dean said as he closed his eyes and drifted into the most peaceful sleep he'd had in a while.
John watched his son sleep, his mind going a mile a minute, worrying over his sons. This led to John making a really big mistake. He forgot all about Dean's fear of being alone when he was in the hospital, and when they announced visiting hours were over, John got up and left. He really needed to clear his head. He wanted to take a short drive in the Impala and he had fully intended to go back to the hospital. Then he got a call from Bobby. They had taken care of the poltergeist and they were all fine, except Sam was now sporting a black eye from getting hit with a flying book, and they were on their way home. Wanting to make sure that Sam was okay with his own two eyes, he went back to Bobby's. The Impala needed an oil change so he drove the car into the garage, intending to take care of it in the morning. He went into the den and lay down and it wasn't long before sleep quickly claimed him.
When Bobby and Sam arrived home a couple of hours later, not seeing the Impala, they assumed that John was at the hospital, not not bothering to check the den. He and Sam went to their respective rooms and fell asleep.
Needless to say, Bobby was shocked when John walked in the kitchen the next morning.
"Did they release Dean?" Bobby asked.
"No they want to hold him for a few more days," John explained.
"Then why are you here?" Bobby accused. "Who's with Dean?"
John realized his mistake. "I needed to get out of there for a bit, I was going back and then I heard about Sam and I didn't even think."
"Where's the Impala?"
"I put it in the garage. I was going to do an oil change later today."
Before Bobby could respond, the phone rang. Bobby excused himself and answered.
"Johnny," he called sombrely. It's the hospital. They need you there right away."
TBC
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