Chapter Nine

We all grow up with the weight of history on us. Our ancestors dwell in the attics of our brains as they do in the spiraling chains of knowledge hidden in every cell of our bodies.

John's blood was boiling as he stalked away from his brother-in-law - his childhood best friend, his past.

Their long-time friendship soured not long after John professed to seeing his wife burn to death on the ceiling. Nathan, suspecting that the young father was suffering from some sort of breakdown, mentioned to John that perhaps he needed to seek professional help. This, of course, did not go over well with John at all. When he learned that his own parents believed him mentally unstable and not fit to take care of his own children, John knew that the best thing he could do was to get as far away from his family and friends as possible. He had already lost Mary; losing his boys would kill him.

When Missouri Mosley confirmed that he was in fact not stark-raving crazy, the recently widowed father made the decision to leave Kansas and find out as much as possible about the supernatural and the thing that took the mother of his children. Missouri gave him a list of people who would be able to help him - 'contacts', she had called them.

And so had begun the quest that had consumed his life ever since. The heartache and hate that Mary's loss created in him still remained, as well as the fear that the same thing that happened to his wife would happen to Dean and Sam. He'd been training them for years to help ensure that they would be safe, but the fact remained that they were just boys – boys who knew 37 ways to kill evil spirits and could recite an exorcism from memory, but still boys. He hated that he had to raise them as soldiers, but he had no other choice.

"Dad!"

John was pulled from his thoughts as he stood stabbing the button to the large elevator. He had to get to the pediatrics floor, to Sammy.

"What the hell was that about? Dad? DAD!" Dean asked, slightly out of breath after running to catch up with him. He followed his father into the spacious and thankfully empty elevator.

"Why did that doctor just say he was our uncle? What's goin' on? Dad?" Dean demanded, staring up at his father. He watched as John ran a tired hand over his stubbly face, pacing up and down like a caged animal. There were only a handful of times Dean had seen his father looking this panicked. Fear was slowly taking hold of the teenager, his heart slamming hard against his ribs. As if things weren't bad enough for them right now.

"DAD!" the tired teen shouted, trying to get his father's attention. He'd been calling out to him since they left the pulmonary floor, but John had yet to answer.

"I can't think with you yapping in my ear! Just be quiet and let me think about this!" he roared back, gripping his boy by the shoulders and shaking him slightly, momentarily forgetting about his son's injuries. The jostling caused Dean to yelp out in pain and stumble back, knocking his severely bruised back and shoulders into the wall behind him. Dean whimpered and felt his knees buckle a little as he fought to breathe through the pain, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes as his vision swam and started to blur.

"Fuck!" John cursed his own stupidity, steadying his son with an arm around his waist.

"I'm really sorry kiddo, Are you okay? I just. I -" John sighed, gently taking Dean by his good arm and guiding him out of the elevator as the doors opened onto the bright and colorful corridor just outside the children's ward.

"S'okay. I'm all right." Dean mumbled after he'd caught his breath. He blinked away the dizziness as his back and arm throbbed relentlessly. What he wouldn't do for some hardcore painkillers right now.

"Come on, sit down for a minute. Take a breather," John ordered, leading the shaky teen over to a row of chairs next to the nurses' station and helping him sit down. He slumped down into the seat beside his son with a sigh.

"Dr. McAlli...Nathan - he ah .. he is your uncle Dean," John started. Dean's eyes went wide as he glanced sideways at his father, who sat tapping his foot nervously against the floor. This was all just too fucking much to deal with right now.

"He's your mom's twin brother. He was my best friend." Dean had no clue his mother had any siblings; he had always just assumed she had been an only child because his dad had never mentioned otherwise.

"Then why were you so pissed at him?" Dean asked cautiously.

John took a deep breath and blew, causing his cheeks to puff out. He rubbed a hand over the growing tension headache above his left eyebrow.

"It's complicated, Dean. When your mom died, I was a mess. It took all I had just to get outta bed in the mornings. If it wasn't for you and your brother, I don't think I would have survived," he admitted, every word the truth. John wasn't ashamed to admit that he had thought about ending it all more than once; he had two reasons that stopped him each time the dark thoughts had entered his head, and one of those reasons was sitting by his side now.

Dean felt a hard knot grow in his throat and he fought to swallow it down.

"For a while I thought I was going mad. What I saw that night…I mean, there was no logical explanation. My folks were all for checking me into a mental hospital. Everybody thought I was having a breakdown. Julie, Nathan's wife, took care of you guys for awhile. Then I went to see a psychic and she told me that what I saw that night was real, and she gave me Pastor Jim's and Bobby's addresses. After a few weeks of research, I understood a bit more.

"Nathan decided that I had finally lost it and tried to get me to hand you and Sam over to them and get some professional help. Then protective services got involved and there was a real possibility that you two would be taken from me, so I ran. I bundled you boys in the car and took off. And here we are."

"I remember," Dean's voice was husky and just above a whisper. He remembered, not very clearly, but he had vague memory flashes which still haunted his dreams some nights. He remembered the night his mom died, everything about it: what his dad said to him and carrying Sammy out of the house. He remembered the night he and Sammy were huddled in the backseat of the Impala, driving for what felt like days and days. But he had no recollection of Nathan or any other family members.

John glanced at his son.

"I'm sorry, Dean," he said, reaching up to rub his hand through his son's hair and ruffling it. He frowned at how warm the boy felt and made a mental note to have his temperature checked.

"We're gonna have to get away from here. There's no way I'm taking the chance of Nathan trying to take you boys from me."

"What!" Dean snapped sitting up from his slouched position in the chair. Adrenaline rushed through his vein as the thought of his small family being separated took root in his brain.

"What do you mean, Dad? Do you think he will? He can't do that, can he? He can't - I won't.. he.. I..." Dean swallowed hard, feeling his breath shorten.

"Dean, calm yourself down right now," John ordered sternly as he watched the teenager get himself worked up. The single father knew his son should be at home in bed resting, but things where just never that simple for them. And the thought of taking Sam from the hospital before he was ready turned John's stomach, but desperate times called for desperate measures. He'd do what he had to if it meant keeping his family together.

"Just let me worry about it, son. We're staying together, I promise you. As soon as we need to, we'll take Sam outta here and leave."

"But Dad, Sam's still too hurt. He only got out of traction yesterday!" Dean worried. He knew Sam couldn't even make it from the hospital bed on his own yet. Sure, the feeling had returned to his legs, but he was in alot of pain.

"I know, son, but Nathan works here and I can't risk him getting to Sam. We don't have a choice; we gotta go. He's probably got the wheels in motion already, but I'll tell you this now, Dean: If he wants to take you boys from me, it will have to be over my dead body."

Dean nodded. His dad was right, but that didn't stop him from panicking. Sam was still in a bad way. Hell, he was still feeling like crap himself. He was glad his father hadn't noticed the occasional chill that wracked his body; on the other hand, he'd been doing his best not to let it show. Sam was worse off than he was, so Dean wasn't going to make a scene just because he was a little cold. Besides, their dad had more important things to worry about, like keeping them together.

Dean glanced back over at his dad when he remained silent. He had a look of deep concentration on his face and the two lines between his eyebrows that only showed up when he was worried were etched deeply into his skin. It only made Dean feel worse about their situation and his good hand picked unconsciously at his worn jeans.

"Okay. I'm gonna go get the car ready and bring it around the side. Go stay with your brother and tell him I'll be there in a few minutes. Caleb's in there, so tell him and Sam that we're leaving. I'm not taking any chances. We're leaving now," John finally said, having come to a conclusion. It was hasty, but better safe than sorry.

John stood up and affectionately mussed his son's hair, his own, awkward way of showing his love for his eldest, and took off back to the elevators. When the elevator doors didn't slide open immediately, he shoved through the fire door into the stairwell and descended them two at a time. Dean had a fair idea of where his pissed-off father was headed. Super.

Sighing wheezily and stifling a cough, Dean rubbed his good hand against his tired eyes and grunted in pain as he got up from the hard plastic chair. Glancing up at the giant, elephant-shaped clock on the bright green wall above him, Dean whimpered almost inaudibly. He should have had his pain meds at least twenty minutes ago, but they were in his bag in the Impala, and there was no way he was dragging himself all the way to the parking lot. The way he was feeling, he'd be ecstatic if he could just make it to Sammy's bedside without taking a swan dive onto the gleaming white of the sterile floor. Slowly but surely he headed towards the large six-bed ward in front of him with the giant, boldly-colored words 'Rainbow Unit' decorating the entrance arch.

Dean was glad that Sam was no longer in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit.He hated it in there. He'd spent a few times in the PICU himself over the years and it was definitely not at the top of his Nice Places to Be list. He knew Sammy must be getting better for his doctor to have moved him to a regular ward and taken him out of traction and off the IV morphine. Dean had to squint at the bright murals of various cartoon and Disney characters that assaulted his eyes as the large sliding door opened. The 'Rainbow Unit' was way too colorful for Dean's liking, but he was glad that, considering Sammy's ever-present clown phobia, at least there were no clowns amongst the numerous, too-perky characters adorning the walls.

A very hot nurse wearing "Mickey Mouse on skis" scrubs was standing just inside the door, scribbling something on a bright yellow chart. Dean was momentarily shocked at her striking resemblance to Carmen Electra. He blinked at her owlishly, wondering if he was delirious and just imagining her. The young nurse gave Dean a concerned look as he shuffled past her trying not to make eye contact. He blushed when her bright blue eyes caught his.

"Ya okay there, sweet pea?" she drawled, taking in his hunched form and pale appearance. Her eyebrows knitted together when she picked up the raspy wheeze that accompanied his every breath. Dean knew she must have thought he was a patient. Hell, most of the kids around him in hospital gowns looked to be in better health. Glancing past her, he saw his brother three beds down. Sam looked like he was asleep and the animal patterned covers were pulled up to his shoulders.

"Yes, ma'am," he answered politely, clearing his throat. He hated the way she was looking at him, like he was a fucking modern-day Oliver Twist.

"I'm just here to see my little brother," he added, stifling a yawn. For a second, he envied the patients in the beds around him; he wished he could just lie down, close his eyes and forget the world for a few hours.

"Dean," Caleb said as he came up behind him. He had a vending machine coffee in his hand and a newspaper tucked under his arm. The 16-year-old smiled at his friend for his impeccable timing. Caleb raised an eyebrow at the sight of the big-boobed, blonde-haired nurse, instantly wondering if it was possible to get laid on a pediatrics ward.

"Well, hello," he smirked, running his eyes up and down the nurse's slender frame. She just raised an eyebrow at him before smiling back.

"My nephew here's not causing any trouble, I hope," he asked, stepping closer to Dean and placing an arm around his shoulder, which Dean immediately tried to shrug off, scowling at the older hunter.

"No, not at all," she said, pouting. Dean rolled his eyes - she was flirting back. Typical Caleb, guy could find action at a freakin' lesbian barbecue.

"I was just asking if he was okay," Nurse Boobs continued sympathetically. "He's a little pale and that chest's not sounding too good, either." She reached over and brushed her soft hand over Dean's sweaty forehead. The teen flinched away from her touch. As much as she was hot, he didn't want her touching him. Well, not his forehead, anyway.

Caleb looked over Dean critically, took in the clenched set of his jaw, the tense way he was holding himself and the sheen of sweat covering his pallid face. He could tell the kid was in pain as his breath sawed in and out as he fought to stay in control.

"When was the last time you took your meds, Shorty?" he asked, concern lacing his words. Dean cringed at the use of his hated nickname, especially in front of Nurse Boobs, but he was tired so he decided to let it slide just this once.

"I was s'posed to awhile ago, but they're in the car. It doesn't matter any way, though. It doesn't hurt that bad," he lied. The fiery pain coursing up his arm was making him nauseous and light headed.

"For Gods sakes, Dean," Caleb berated, all thoughts of flirting with the nurse gone. "Where's your dad?"

Dean bristled and glared up at the hunter. "It's a long story. He said he'd be back soon," he snapped, wishing the hot nurse would leave so they could talk.

Caleb let out a long breath and ran a hand through his hair. He turned to the nurse, smiling again.

"Um - sorry, what's your name?"

"Sherry." She smiled, flashing her bright pearly whites at Caleb.

"Sherry, nice name." Caleb grinned at her, a vision of her washing his car in a bikini flashed into his mind and he physically shook his head to get rid of the fantasy. Focus, man!

"Uh, Sherry, my nephew here was in an accident and badly broke his arm, amongst other things, and he's been really sick, too." Dean cringed at Caleb's words. He hated people knowing his personal business, especially when it emphasized his weaknesses.

"He just got out of here himself and he's been in a lot of pain, but his meds are in the car, which unfortunately, my brother has stupidly taken with him. Is there any way we could get him something to tide him over?" It was worth a try. He added in another smoldering smile to help persuade her.

"I'm not sure if we'll be able to give him anything since he's not a patient, but I'll go speak with Dr. Chang and see what we can do," she said, smiling again.

"I'll be back in a sec, honey, you go sit down with your brother." Sherry smiled sympathetically at Dean, winking at Caleb before rushing off.

"Damn, she's a stunner, eh? You okay?" Caleb asked, turning to face his young charge.

Dean nodded. His good hand was rubbing against his sling as the burning pain gnawed away at him relentlessly. "Caleb, somethin' really weird just happened," he said taking a deep breath as he prepared himself to tell his friend what he knew, which was in fact very little.

"The doctor I saw downstairs at my check up is my uncle," Dean mumbled. Caleb's eyes went wide. He put his arm around Dean's shoulders and led him slowly towards Sam's bed. He could feel the teen trembling.

"He just blurted it out. Dad's really pissed and he looked like he wanted to cave the guy's head in. He just brought me up here then took off. I bet he's gone back down there. I wanna know what the hell's going on man!" Dean's voice was raising with each sentence. The situation, lack of sleep and pain where all getting to the middle Winchester.

"Okay, just calm down before you blow a fuse. I can't have you going all blue-lipped-boy on me dude, so chill." Caleb said calmy as they reached the sleeping Sam's bedside. He helped Dean ease down into the comfortable recliner next to his brother, and saw the relief cross the boy's face as he sank into the leather.

"I'm sure it's just some kind of misunderstanding or something," he lamely reassured Dean.

"Misunderstanding?" Dean gaped at Caleb. "Like what? The words 'They're my nephews, John' just accidentally slipped from his mouth?"

"Plus, Dad told me it's true," Dean added. He sighed dejectedly and rubbed at his temple with his good hand.

Caleb was stumped at what to say. Typical John, fucking off and leaving me to deal with the boys.

"Look, Dean, I don't have a clue what's going on, man, so let's just wait till your dad gets back and see what he has to say, okay? Because it's probably nothing."

Dean didn't have the energy to argue back. He looked at his sleeping brother. He was happy to see that Sammy didn't have an IV morphine infusion pump attached to him anymore. He was no longer connected to an array of wires and machines, an IV of saline being the only thing connected to the port in the back of his hand. The pre-teen lay out flat with his broken leg raised on a pillow, the cast going from his toes to just under his knee. The drugs they where giving Sammy had him asleep most of the time. Dean was not looking forward to his dad coming to move his little brother.

Nurse Boobs suddenly appeared beside him with a small glass of water cupped in her hand. Smiling, she stopped in front of Dean, crouched down so she was at his level, and handed him two small, white pills.

"I had a word with Dr. Chang and I'm afraid all we can give you is some over-the-counter Tylenol, but it should take the edge off until you get your own medication," she smiled as she handed Dean the glass of water.

"Thanks." Dean smiled back gratefully, throwing the pills into his mouth and gulping down the entire glass of water. He doubted they would do much to squash the intense pain he was in or fend of the chills that where gradually getting worse, but they were better than nothing.