WARNINGS: Self-Mutilation, Language; Insults not tintended to offend anyone personally.

Disclaimer: Winchesters are not mine. Let's all be sad together.

Departing Thoughts

"He's going to be fine," they tell them. "But, he's lost a lot of blood."...

Beep

By: chocolate rules

Okay, it became official, he hated white. Why couldn't they ever color these rooms to be blue, or green or red- okay maybe not red that might scare a lot of people? Not really the place for red.

Sam sat in the emergency waiting room of the Terrence Fishburne Memorial Hospital.

They had arrived some three hours ago and Dean had been rushed into surgery. John had remained for the first hour before a call had come in and now he was outside actually abiding to the no cell phone policy and talking to whoever the hell decided to call him on the worst night ever.

Needless to say, Sam was full of angst.

So many thoughts were passing through the young man's mind that he really hoped someone would come and tell him something because he was likely to need a respirator if they didn't.

For at least the tenth time, Sam stood up and began to pace. Not that it was helping anyone, but it was really irritating to the Winchester that he couldn't do anything to help his brother. That he couldn't even see him. He knew that operating rooms had windows from which other doctors viewed in and he had asked to stand watch there.

The two nurses that had approached them with the news of Dean's entering surgery gave him disapproving looks. But it was John who had told him to stop that nonsense and sit down.

It was also John who had the last four times told him to quite pacing and sit still. His father hated restlessness. The other times, nurses had come by and had told him that his steady pacing was really getting on their last nerves - kinder of course.

Point being, Sam was very impatient.

"I thought I told you to sit still," came a tired voice from behind him. Sam quickly turned around. He had not heard his father come back but sure enough there he was sitting on one of the many hard plastic chairs.

"I can't help it," Sam said. John gave him a look that told him to learn how to help it and fast. They were in the hospital. The number two enemy of the Winchester clan. John was already on the fritz and Sam knew that he'd have no problem taking Sam out if it meant trying his patience.

Sam slowly walked over to the chair beside his father and sat down. Not even two minutes in, his leg starts bobbing up and down. A firm hand dropped on his knee and he stilled.

"Dad, I'm going to lose it," Sam confessed as he let his head fall back and let out a deep sigh. He had stopped crying as he watched his father heave Dean into his arms and into the emergency entrance.

"Yeah," John said. He really didn't know what he was supposed to tell Sam. He gave him a reassuring squeeze to his knee and retrieved his hand. John was desperately trying to get the images of Dean's slump form out of his mind. He was successful only to the point of getting Dean's multiple cuts in a slideshow format playing in his main brain theatre.

"He's been in there forever," Sam complained. His foot started tapping now, but it didn't bother John as much as it had before.

"Too long,"

"Really?" Sam asked looking frightful at John.

"I don't know about these things much, Sammy, but three hours on a few chest wounds seems like too much to me."

"Maybe they're checking for internal bleeding." Sam supplied. If that was meant to calm either of them, well it proved just the opposite.

Sam's hitched breathing caught John's attention a few moments later. He shifted in his chair to turn and better look at his son. He then placed a strong hand on each of Sam's shoulders and gave him one hard quick shake.

"Sammy, you can't lose it now." John said when Sam's eyes locked with his another shake later.

"Dad, he's…"

"I know," John interrupted. "He's hurting. He's in danger. He's in the hospital." John continued, each words causing his throat to tighten.

"But as long as no one tells us anything has gone wrong, then we have to keep thinking that everything's okay."

"I don't think that I can, Dad. You saw how they looked at him when we brought him in." Sam said quietly. The nurses had all taken one look at Dean's pale white body and had given the two a look of condolence. Like it was already too late.

"You heard him breathing, you know he was alive. He is alive," said John, but the more he tried to reassure Sam, the less he was reassured himself. Dean was dangerously pale. The entire hour long drive over there John had been checking his pulse and breathing patterns. They were growing weak, but he couldn't tell that to Sam.

"I know, but he..." stammered Sam. He took a deep breath and leaned forward placing his head in his hands. "He was out there too long. How did he even get that far in there?"

"He must have been running pretty hard. He was probably still running when you went after him.

"God, why'd he have to do this again? I thought he was over this. I should have known better. I should've noticed the change." Sam guiltily stated. John stared at him for a moment, not knowing really what his son was talking about. Once again, he reached over and placed a strong hand on the back of Sam's neck.

"He's going to be fine." But Sam shook his head at this.

"No, Dad. Don't you see? Even after he gets out of here. It's not enough."

"What are you talking about Sammy?"

"We brought him to this again. I can't let him do this to himself." And John was getting nothing from the boy.

"Sam, what are you saying?"

"It's our fault he's in here. It's our fault, Dad. We keep hurting him and he can't take it."

"Your brother's strong…"

"No, Dad. I mean, I know he's strong, he's the strongest person I know, but his strength has nothing to do with this."

"With what, Sam?"

"With his cutting. He was never weak, Dad, he just needed an out."

And suddenly John understood. This had been going on for a long time. This was something that Dean was fighting against and their argument had brought it out.

"How long, Sam?"

"Too long," Sam said. John was going to press him for answers but the look that Sam turned and gave him at that moment clamped his mouth shut. Too long.

A doctor came through the surgery doors and removed his scrubs. He talked something over with his intern and she nodded her head towards them. He grabbed the file she handed him and walked over to them.

"Mr. Wilder?" he asked coming towards them. John and Sam both recognized the name as the fake one that John had handed over. They turned toward the doctor and both stood on their feet.

"You're here for Dean Wilder, Yes?"

"Yes, I'm his father." John replied as he quickly took the doctor's offered hand.

"Doctor Jake Grey, I was administering your son's surgery."

"How is he?" Sam asked from behind his father. The doctor eyed him wearily not remembering the nurses mentioning another man coming in with his new patient.

However, since the other man made no remark the doctor quickly continued.

"Dean's doing just fine now. We had a miner complication during the surgery when he stopped breathing, but after a few seconds we had him breathing again. It was less than thirty seconds, so there's no need to worry towards any kind of effect from this."

Oh God, thought Sam wide eyed. Dean stopped breathing. Dean was closer to the brink of death once more.

"So, he's okay now?" asked John not noticing his youngest son's increasing panic from behind him but knowing that the words were causing a distress to his own breathing pattern, so he could only imagine what was on Sammy's face.

"Yes, Mr. Wilder. You're son's fine now."

"Can we see him?" piped up Sam.

"Not yet, he's still out from the medication, you can see him once he's awake. But only then it's immediate family only."

"That'll be no problem Dr. Grey. This is Dean's brother and we were only passing through here…"

"How does he look?" Sam asked interrupting his father. He really wasn't in the mood to sit through another scam operation and John could wait until later to press on the matter.

"He's fine, son. Just resting," Grey repeated now with a slightly more calming demeanor towards the young man in front of him.

"No, I mean, how does he look. What happened? What took so long?"

"Well, he's going to be alright, that I can assure you both. But, he did lose a lot of blood. He will be weak when he awakes and then he will be subject to observation.

"Mr. Wilder, I'm sure you noticed when, as you said, you tried to mend his wounds, that they were self inflicted. Self mutilation isn't taken lightly, Mr. Wilder, and he will also be subject to psychological evaluation pending his release. And mandatory therapy session afterwards as well. I know you said that you're not from around here, so I would suggest you make him carry this out back home.

"That's all I can say for now, just know your son is doing well. Once he awakes, a nurse will call you to see him. Until then, I ask that you get some rest, the medication should still be in affect for the next four hours."

tbc...I've gotten sick again, so I don't know when, but I'll try to make it quick:D...The hospital doesn't really exist, that I know off...I think that this chapter is a great John and Sam one, could just be me, but I think that they really need more of those in life ...plz R&R