Hey! Two chapters in one day! But....now you'll have to wait a bit longer between chapters. Anyway, hope you enjoy.

Cindy

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John was beginning to get worried. It'd been nearly forty five minutes and Dean had yet to return to the Impala. If he didn't have an unconscious teenager lying in the backseat, he'd be hightailing it into the forest in search of his eldest son. He could not leave Sam though. If the boy awoke and found himself alone, John was afraid of what he might do, considering his final words before passing out. John had run the words through his mind over and over and could only come up with two possible meanings. Either Sam was planning on leaving them or worse, he was planning on killing himself. The more John thought about it, the more Sam's actions seemed to point to the latter. First with the Wendigo and now with the werewolf? It almost appeared as though the boy was trying to get himself killed. Or, could he possibly be so hungry for approval and acceptance that he'd be willing to put his life in danger just to get one word of praise?

John was torn and he had no clue how to answer these troubling questions. If he gave Sam the praise that the boy may be seeking, he risked the chance that Sam would continue putting himself at risk, but if he didn't then he could lose his son in a completely different way. John knew that he had created this mess by not acknowledging the contributions that Sam made to the family business and by not making his youngest feel that he was important and needed, but most of all that he failed to show his baby that he was loved beyond anything or anyone, except Dean. John loved both boys equally, but in hindsight, he could see that he had been more willing to show that to Dean, but not to Sam. Dean had been easy. He loved what they did, craved the hunt where Sam tolerated it only because he had no other choice. Sam seemed happiest when immersed in the research part of the hunt, or in his schoolwork. What John failed to see all of that time was that the research was of equal importance to the actual hunt. Without the proper research, people died.

John couldn't believe what a fool he'd been. Sam had undoubtedly saved their asses more than a few times by his meticulous attention to details, but John had not one time praised him for his work. He'd criticized him numerous times though when on the same hunts the boy had slipped or made a noise that John felt he shouldn't have made. He always seemed to point out the negatives while never once acknowledging the positives. No wonder the boy felt he wasn't wanted or cared about. When you heard day in and day out that you didn't quite measure up, what other conclusion could you come to? John shook his head to clear his thoughts and turned his attention once more to the path that Dean had taken, his worry growing the longer his son was absent. A soft moan from behind him drew his attention in that direction and John turned to see Sam slowly coming to. He halfway stood and turned then eased in between the seats so he could get a closer look at his youngest son.

"Unnnn…ow," Sam hissed as he turned slightly, the action obviously aggravating the wounds in his leg and side.

"Easy, Sam. Don't move, okay?" John said softly, his hand coming to rest on Sam's forehead, the man frowning at the unnatural heat that radiated from the boy.

Sam blinked his bleary eyes open and stared up at his father's face. "D'd?" he queried, his voice indicating his confused state.

"Yeah, kiddo. I'm here…just keep still," John answered, a warm smile curling his dry lips.

"Where's Dean?" the boy whispered, his eyes filled with worry.

"He went to burn the body. He should be back soon," John said, even though his own worry was growing by the minute.

The sudden sound of soft footsteps had the man turning to look over his shoulder, his body sagging with relief when his eldest son emerged from the trees, the young man's eyes immediately moving to the Impala as soon as he stepped into the parking area. John smiled as Dean rushed to the car and leaned into the open door, his attention focused completely on his little brother.

"Get everything taken care of?" John asked as he watched his eldest smile down at Sam.

"Yeah…the bastards worm food," Dean replied absently, his eyes never leaving the hazel ones that stared back up at him. "How ya doing, Sam?"

"Uh…I'm okay," Sam replied, his voice betraying what his words were saying.

"Sam…"

"It hurts, but not too much. Dad got some pain pills in me."

"Okay, well…let's get you back to the motel then," Dean said as he glanced over at his father.

John nodded and backed out of the backseat then moved around the car and climbed behind the wheel. Dean smiled warmly at his brother then stepped back and shut the back door. He eased into the front passenger seat then turned in the seat so he could watch Sam while John drove. It didn't take long before they were pulling to a stop in front of their motel room and John and Dean were climbing from the car. John went to open the room door while Dean helped Sam out of the back seat. John joined his sons and between the two older Winchesters, Sam was quickly deposited on the bed nearest the bathroom. His shoes and socks were removed and thrown against the wall then his shredded jeans were gingerly cut away and tossed into the trash bag near the door. He was further stripped until he was dressed in only his tee shirt and boxers then a blanket was draped over his shivering body, the blanket pulled back so that his right leg was visible.

John carefully removed the bandage he had placed on the wound in the woods then instructed Dean to fetch him warm water and washcloths. The wound was thoroughly cleaned before John began to stitch the deeper parts of the clawmarks. While John was busy with Sam's leg, Dean lifted the boy's tee shirt to get a better look at his side. The older brother glanced up, relieved to see that his brother had passed out once more thus making he and his father's ministrations easier to carry out. Dean returned his attention to Sam's side, his eyes narrowing at the growing bruise. There didn't appear to be any serious damage so Dean replaced Sam's tee shirt then began to inspect his body, wanting to make sure that Sam had been telling the truth when he had said he hadn't been bitten. When his inspection revealed no other wound, Dean moved up the bed and rested his weary body against the headboard, his fingers brushing idly through the boy's messy hair. John finally finished stitching Sam up then he bandaged the wound again before moving to the bathroom to wash his hands.

Dean stood and straightened the blanket over his brother before he went to the kitchenette to put on a pot of coffee. He didn't plan on sleeping the rest of the night and he would need the kick of the caffeine to accomplish that. John exited the bathroom and took a moment to stop next to Sam's bed, the man watching his boy sleep for a few moments before he joined Dean. Once both men had their cups filled, they sat at the small table and simply watched Sam for several minutes before John finally broke the silence.

"Uh…I think we have a problem, Dean," he said in a hushed tone so as not to disturb his sleeping son.

"Yeah? What's that?" Dean replied, his green eyes moving to rest on John's face.

"Sammy…um…he's pretty messed up," John answered.

Dean just stared at his father as if the man had grown two heads. He slowly shook his head as he licked his lips. "Uh…haven't I been saying that for the past six weeks or so?" he asked incredulously.

"I know…you have, but I think it's worse than we thought," John said, the man standing to turn all of the lights in the room off except the one over the table where he and Dean sat.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked as he eyed his brother with a renewed sense of worry.

"Uh…he said something in the car, before you came back and…I…I'm concerned."

"What did he say?"

"He said…um…he…"

"Dad? What did he say?"

John looked up at Dean and swallowed the lump in his throat. He hated to put more on the young man's shoulders, but if he didn't say anything and Sam did do something stupid and Dean found out that John knew that it was a possibility, he'd lose the respect of his eldest son forever. "He said that he'd be out of our hair soon," the man whispered, his eyes dropping to his coffee cup, index finger circling the rim nervously.

"What!? What does that mean?" Dean cried as he jerked his eyes to his sleeping brother.

"I don't know. Maybe it means he plans on taking off, or…or it could be worse than that."

"Son of a bitch!" Dean turned his attention back to John, his eyes narrowing as he took in John's defeated demeanor. "You said something didn't you?"

John looked up, his dark eyes conveying the guilt he felt. "I messed up…again. I told him he was stupid for taking off like that. I said that he wasn't…that he wasn't experienced enough to take on a werewolf by himself."

"And yet he killed it…with a knife. Dad…do you think that just one frickin' time you could think before you open your mouth!? You couldn't have said 'nice job, Sammy' or 'you did good, Sammy'? No, you have to tell him that he's stupid and incapable of something he had just proven he was more than capable of! What is it with you?" Dean cried angrily.

"I know Dean. I was just so worried. Your brother scared me so badly and I just lashed out. I knew what I wanted to say, but that's not what came out," John said, his eyes dropping in shame.

Dean stood and turned his back to his father as he scrubbed a hand over his stubbled face. He turned and glared down at John until the man raised his dark eyes up to the younger man's face. "When he wakes up, you are telling him everything that you should have told him all along. He needs to know that you care about him, Dad…"

"He knows I love him…he's just upset and…"

"No, Dad, he doesn't know that. He truly thinks that you don't love him. We had a little talk in the woods while he was resting. This isn't dramatics. He thinks you don't give a damn about him. He thinks that he's a waste of space in your eyes. He needs to know the truth. You have to make him believe that what he thinks isn't true. It isn't…right?"

John jerked his eyes up, shocked at Dean's question. "What!? Of course it isn't true! I love Sam so much. I don't know what I'd do if I lost him, Dean. I know I've screwed up with him, but I've always loved him more than anything. I love the both of you more than anything. You have to believe me."

"I'm not the one you need to convince, Dad. I have some fixing to do myself, but I think you need to talk to him as soon as he's coherent."

"I will, Dean. Just as soon as he can have a meaningful conversation, I'll fix this. I promise," John said as he stood and moved to Sam's bedside and plopped down in the chair he'd sat in to sew Sam's leg up.

Dean walked to the other bed and sat down. He kicked off his boots and inched up to lean against the headboard. He picked up the television remote and turned on the set, lowering the volume so as not to disturb his injured brother. He flipped idly through the channels as his mind mulled over the nights events. He prayed that John held true to his word and talked to Sam because he was sure if something wasn't done soon, they'd lose his brother forever.

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Sam groaned as he slowly came awake. He blinked bleary eyes open and rolled his head to his right. His father sat hunched over on one of the room chairs, his chin resting on his chest. Sam heard soft snores from his left and turned his head to the other bed in the room. Dean was leant up against the headboard, his body listing to the side, his mouth half open in sleep. Sam planted his hands on the mattress and pushed himself up, the boy hissing as pain shot through his side and leg. The pain wasn't as bad as he remembered from earlier and he was at least happy for that. Sam gingerly swung his legs over the edge of the bed, noticing at that moment that he was clothed only in his tee shirt and boxers. He rolled his eyes, mortified that he once again had to be disrobed by his family. Sam turned and looked over his shoulder at his sleeping father. The father who would never accept him, who would never love him and would always see him as the lesser son.

Sam dropped his head and squeezed his eyes shut. Tears threatened to fall and Sam lifted his fisted hands to his face and pressed them into his eyes. He wouldn't cry. Crying was for weaklings. All he'd ever wanted was to be seen as an equal to his father and brother. To be accepted as an important member of the family. He felt anything but. He felt like he was a burden, like a he was a second class citizen. He'd never be the son his father wanted, no matter what he did. He'd proven that. He'd changed everything about himself. He'd become something he wasn't and still he'd been shot down. He thought if he discarded everything that made him what his father despised, he would be accepted, but he'd been wrong.

Sam knew what he needed to do, but he was afraid it would hurt his brother. He lifted his head and turned his attention to Dean. Despite the words that Dean had said to him in the woods that night, Sam knew that his brother loved him. His actions over the past weeks proved that. Sam felt bad that he'd been so hard on Dean, and even worse for what he was planning on doing, but he didn't know what else to do. His family would be better off if he wasn't there. They'd be able to hunt without having to worry about saving his worthless ass. Sam gazed sadly at his brother. He really didn't want to leave him, but he really didn't have a choice. He was holding his brother back, distracting him from what was important and sooner or later it would get him hurt or killed. Sam couldn't let that happen. He loved Dean more than anyone and it was high time he finally did the right thing and set his brother free.

Sam pushed to his feet and limped around the bed as silently as he could. He swept his gaze over the room, spying his duffel against the wall next to the door. He went to it, leaned over and picked it up then headed toward the bathroom. On his way he picked his gun up from the side table next to his bed then stepped through the door to the bathroom, the boy casting one last look at his brother before disappearing into the small room and closing the door behind him.

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Okay, I'm going into hiding now! I'll be working on the next chapter so I don't keep you in suspense for too long. Sorry for the very evil...very mean cliffy. Please...let me live! LOL

Cindy