Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or its characters.

John walked into the diner, breathless. He'd received a voice message from Dean asking him to meet at Greg's Diner as soon as he arrived at Stanford. Dean hadn't said much, just that they needed to discuss what had happened to Sam and devise a plan. It had been hard to read Dean's tone over the phone – he sounded brusque and businesslike, and John wasn't about to revisit their last conversation unless it was absolutely necessary.

John spotted Dean right away, cupping a mug of black coffee between his hands. Damn, the kid looked tired – Dean had dark bags under his eyes and his face looked pale. He looked awfully young in that worn leather jacket, too. John swore it looked looser than usual. If it wasn't for the world-weary look in his eyes, Dean could pass as a college kid. John felt a pang of guilt. That was a life that was likely closed off to Dean now – always had been, really. That was on John.

Dean looked up as John approached his booth. Something seemed a bit off to John. Dean's eyes were cold, as was his demeanor. John mentally kicked himself for thinking this might actually be easy. After what he'd said to Dean, he didn't deserve easy. "Hey, son," John said, sliding into the booth. Dean gave a slight nod in response.

John cleared his throat uncomfortably and gestured to the waitress. "Coffee, please. Black." John leaned back in the booth and stared at Dean. There was silence until the coffee arrived. John gulped it greedily as he eyed Dean. "So," he began cautiously, "what have you found?"

Dean stared at him. "You start." he said bluntly. It wasn't a question.

John bristled at Dean's tone, but followed along without comment. "Well, you know about the fire. Paper says your brother's in a coma." God, it was hard to say that word. John took a swig of coffee. "That would explain why neither of us could reach him." John paused and looked at Dean pointedly. "I think we both know what did this." He waited for a reaction from Dean, but got none. John lowered his voice. "Has to be a demon," he said in a conspirational tone. "Now we just need to find out what hospital he's in." Still, Dean gave no reaction. John's brow furrowed in frustration as he let the silence ride a bit longer. Finally, he made a move to push away from the table. "Let's go find Sam, son."

Dean finally opened his mouth. "I don't think so, John."

Well, that comment certainly had the effect of halting John Winchester in his tracks. He forcefully planted himself back into the diner booth and glared at Dean. "You serious? We're still doing the 'John' thing?"

Dean slammed his hand down on the lunch counter, hard. The diner waitress whipped around to see what the noise was, but just as quickly turned back around when she saw the rage in Dean's face. "You're lucky I'm even seeing you right now," Dean spat. "I know exactly where they're keeping Sammy, but you sure as hell aren't going with me."

John looked at Dean in disbelief. "What the hell? Just tell me where he is, Dean, and we'll go get him. Together."

A wry smile crept over Dean's face. "I'm surprised you think I'm up to a job like that, John."

"Why the hell else would you be here?"

"Oh I don't know," Dean said, still with the odd half-smile. "It's a college town, you know. Maybe I'll find a cheap bar, a cheap girl… dick around a bit. That's what you expect from me, isn't it?"

John's face fell. "Dean, I was drunk. I didn't mean what I said, son."

"Bullshit!" Dean yelled. A few of the diner patrons had already left, and the rest were either paying close attention to the conversation or pointedly pretending to ignore it. "That shit comes from somewhere. Why in hell would I work with someone that has such a low opinion of me?" Dean stared at John. "I wish you weren't my father, and from now on, you won't be." John's heart dropped. Dean's eyes were cold. "And I think we both know you wish you weren't Sam's father."

John was taken aback. "Dean – we both know that's not true."

"You lying bastard." Dean lowered his voice and leaned closer to John. "When were you going to tell me about him?"

"What?"

"You don't get to play innocent!" Dean reached for his coffee and shakily took a drink. He looked troubled. "I…I saw him Dad. He's a mess. A freak. He's not even Sam anymore. How could you have just let him go, knowing he'd turn into that?"

John glanced, panicked, around the diner. "Dammit, Dean, not here. We are not going to talk about this here."

"Then where, Dad, and when? Because I'm not taking you to him until you tell me every damn thing you know about what they did to him."

John swallowed nervously. "Take me to the hospital. We'll talk there."

Dean seemed to consider this. "Fine. I know a place we can talk. But we are talking before you see him." He paused. "I need to know what happened to him, Dad. Please."

John softened a bit. "Alright, Dean. I'll tell you everything I know. We can go right now."

Dean nodded and threw down some cash as both men rose from their booth. A broad grin appeared on Dean's face as he followed John out to their vehicles. John couldn't know it, but inside, his real son was screaming.

For a long moment, Sam hadn't even realized that the vision had already ended. Adrenaline was coursing through him as he sat straight up in the hospital bed, panting. Sam slowly realized that monitors were wailing all around him. Wait, he was sitting? Last he remembered, he had been strapped tightly down to the hospital bed out of fear he would get violent. He looked quickly down at himself, and found the restraints had been ripped open, yet he had no marks on his wrists.

Holy shit. He had done that.

Normally, after a vision, Sam was drained, down for the count. This vision had been particularly vivid and detailed. It had taken a lot out of Sam, but he knew he had no time to spare. Not bothering to puzzle over it, Sam summoned his strength to roll from the bed and drag himself along the floor to his wheelchair. In a burst of energy, he lifted his upper body into the chair and positioned himself so he could roll easily out of his room, into the hallway, and down to the basement, if only no one caught him. His vision had finally been clear, nearly complete, and he knew just where he needed to go.

Thanks for reading; there's more to come! A happy 2010 to everyone! ----- AE