Disclaimer: I do not own these characters- they belong to Eric Kripke and I wouldn't have it any other way! The original story idea belongs to Lia Walker.

Summary: Sam gets hurt from an unexpected attack and John turns to the bottle, then takes his anger out on Dean who is already blaming himself. Teen!chester story. Sam is 13 and Dean is 17. Adult Content. Sam!hurt, Dean!hurt/comfort, John!drunk/abusive.

John, who had still been talking to the doctor outside, heard his eldest son's frantic call and raced into Sam's room, fearing the worst. He stopped short when he saw that Sam was actually awake. Jesus Dean… Don't scare me like that!

"Sammy, thank god."

"Dad, somethin's wrong," Dean warned as John started making his way to the bedside. "He…"

"Who are you?" Sam was looking directly at his father, head tilted to the side in question.

John frowned. This had to be some sort of twisted joke the boys cooked up for him, right?

"Sam, don't screw around. Now is not the…"

"Don't come any closer!" Sam shouted, making Dean and John jump. "Make him go away, Zachary."

John quirked an eyebrow at his eldest. "Dean? What on Earth is going on here? Who the hell is Zachary?"

"She did this to him, dad. The spirit. She called her sons Zachary and Peter. She must have messed with his head when she…" Dean trailed off, feeling sick to his stomach. Please don't let this be permanent.

"Maybe it's just a concussion. Doc!" John called out into the hallway, hoping the doctor was still nearby. Seconds later, the man stuck his head into the room.

"Somethin' wrong?" He smiled when he saw that the young boy had finally woken up. "Welcome back, son."

Sam didn't pay him any attention. He turned back to his brother and reached out to him. "Zack, where's Mommy?"

Aw crap. "She's not here right now, kiddo." Dean took Sam's hand back into his own. He had retracted his hand earlier when Sam had called him Zachary. Now he knew Sam needed him more than ever. "It's okay though. I'm still here."

Sam's hand tightened around his and he gave his big brother the doe-eyed look full of fear and unadulterated trust.

The doctor turned questioningly towards John. "I thought your son's name was Dean?"

"It is. Somethin' is wrong with Sammy. Must have hit his head or somethin'."

As the doctor approached the boys, Sam pulled Dean closer.

"It's okay, Sa… Peter. He's not going to hurt you." Dean forced himself out of the wheelchair and sat on the bed next to his brother. Sam curled into his side, trying to disappear, and clung to his arm.

"Wanna go home, Zack," he stated softly so only his brother could hear.

"I know, bud. We'll go home as soon as we can, okay?"

By this time, the doc had made his way to Sam's other side. "I just need you to look straight ahead, son."

Sam buried his face into his brother's arm. Dean extricated his arm and wrapped it around Sam's shoulders in comfort. "Come on, kiddo. Just do what he says. I've got you."

Slowly, Sam turned to look back at the other man and did as he was told. The doc shined a flashlight into his eyes which made him squint and his head hurt.

"Pupils are responsive and equally dilated. We checked him for head trauma when he was brought in. Perhaps it's more the emotional trauma that is causing this separate identity and memory loss. I will have a therapist come down and speak with him tomorrow. We should let him rest for now and see if his condition improves by itself with a little time."

Dean practically growled under his breath. A therapist isn't going to undo what that bitch did to him. Only dad and I can help him now.

"John, you and Dean should go home and get some rest. You both look exhausted. We'll keep an eye on Sam and let you know if he improves."

John nodded and the doctor left the room. He waited until he was sure the doc was really gone.

"We gotta go, Dean."

Sam clung to Dean's waist, his cast feeling like a brick across Dean's abdomen. "Don't leave me, Zack!"

Dean winced at the painfully tight grip that was just below his ribs but didn't try to shake Sam off of him. It had been a few years since his little brother had been this clingy, and if he were honest with himself, Dean missed feeling so needed. "I'm not leaving you, dude. You're comin' with us."

"Where are we going?" Sam lifted his head enough to look into his brother's sincere eyes.

"Home. We're going home, little brother." Dean turned to his father. "Where's Brian? We're gonna need his help again."

"He's waitin' outside. I'll get him, you get your brother ready to go."

"Yes, sir." Dean turned back to Sam as his father exited the room. "Let me see your right hand, kiddo."

Sam did as he was asked without the slightest hesitation and Dean carefully removed Sam's IV port. He unclipped the pulse ox monitor from Sam's finger as well as a few other leads and then the youngest Winchester was finally free. The boy's clothes were folded up in a nearby chair. Dean tossed them on the bed.

"Change up and we'll hit the road."

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John found Brian leaning up against a wall just outside of Sam's room. Brian straightened up and met the exhausted father halfway.

"Hey, John. Chris just stopped by with Dean's x-ray results. Looks like the last two ribs are indeed broken and he has one other on the right side that is cracked. He gave me a prescription to give to you for painkillers. You can get them at the desk on the way out. That kid must be in a world of hurt."

"Not like he'd ever admit to it…" John grumbled. Sometimes he feared he raised his boys to be too brave and selfless; particularly his eldest. He needed his sons to be strong when on a hunt, but downplaying serious injuries could be just as deadly. Especially when I beat the hell outta him on top of everythin' else…Never again.

"Yeah. He's one hell of a kid. They both are. Just… try to remember they're still kids, okay?"

John nodded, wishing it were true. His boys never had the chance to be "just kids." They were soldiers, and their future looked just as bleak as their past. It wasn't fair, but since when did life care about that?

Brian could tell John was still very worried. "They'll both be alright, John. The doctors here know what they're doing."

"No. They don't have a goddamn clue. I want to take my boys home, Brian. It's the only way for them to heal, especially Sammy. He needs to be in familiar surroundings to jog his memory and this hospital just doesn't quite cut it. If his condition worsens, we can bring him right back."

Brian balked. "There is absolutely no way this hospital will discharge the boys anytime soon with the seriousness of their injuries."

"Yeah, I was afraid of that. Will you help me?"

Brian quirked an eyebrow. "Help you what exactly?"

"I need to take my boys outta here. No one will try to stop us if you're with us."

"Wait just a minute, John. Why the rush to leave all of a sudden? What are you afraid the doctors will find out?"

John bristled, knowing exactly to what Brian was alluding. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Boy did those words sound familiar… Like father, like son.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't call Child Services on you right now."

"Cause my boys need me. Like it or not. You take them away, and anythin' that happens to them will be on your head. I'm gonna go get Dean's painkillers. Then we're leavin', with or without your help." John stalked off down the hallway.

Brian sighed. That hadn't gone very well at all. Though he wanted nothing to do with putting the boys further into harm's way, if he at least went along for the ride he'd be there to pick up the pieces if necessary. First, he wanted to see what the boys thought about the whole situation. He turned and gently knocked on Sam's door.

Dean appeared, exiting the room and closing the door behind him. "Sammy's gettin' changed. What's up?"

Where do I even start?

"How're you boys doin'?"

"We're fine."

Short and sweet, and also a blatant lie. How could they possibly be fine with all the evidence of abuse written across their flesh? There wasn't much Brian could do for them if they didn't admit to it though.

"Dean, we need to talk about this."

Dean frowned, confused at first as to what Brian was talking about. Oh… "You still don't believe me, do you?"

"Well can you blame me? I mean, your only defense is ghosts! I've gotta admit, I don't hear that option very often."

"Maybe because people are oblivious to what's really out there."

Or are you oblivious to what's really going on here?

"Look, believe what you want, man. But my father is a good man. He's done right by us ever since…"

"Ever since what, Dean?"

"Ever since our mom died. Yeah, he's not perfect, but he's my dad and I wouldn't have him any other way. Speakin' of… Where did he go?"

There was a slight edge of panic in Dean's voice, almost like he expected his father to have abandoned them there at the hospital.

"He just went to get you your painkillers. He'll be right back."

Dean let out a small sigh of relief. "Okay, good."

A small voice called out for Zachary from behind the closed door. Dean hung his head for a second before standing.

"I'm gonna go check on him. Let me know when my dad gets back, okay?"

"You got it, kid."

Dean smiled, then disappeared through the door. Sam had managed to get his jeans on but was tangled up in his shirt and trying to fight his cast through the sleeve. Dean chuckled. "Need a little help there, dude?"

Sam stopped struggling, looking defeated and every bit like the little brother he used to be, always turning to Dean to make things right again. "I think I'm stuck," he pouted.

"Yeah, I think you're right. Hang on, buddy." With a few tugs and pushes, they managed to get Sam's arm through the sleeve. Sam shot him one of his patented gigawatt smiles and Dean tousled his hair. I'm gonna make this right again, Sammy. I promise.

TBC

Please review! Any requests for upcoming chapters? I'm always open to suggestions! The action picks up again in the next chapter and the plot will thicken!