A/N: Vivi here, as promised.

Same old warnings.

Enjoy!

Previously on John's Boys:

John wasn't sure he'd be sleeping anytime soon. He didn't like the look on the young nurse's face.

"How is he?"

"There wasn't much we could do."

John's entire world ground to a silent halt. Everything froze.

He couldn't breathe.

Had he heard the woman right? There was no way he could've messed up that bad, not when he was so close to having his little trooper back. Dean was fine, he was just… just…

He was paying for his father's mistakes, and John felt like he was watching his life fall apart in slow motion. It was worse than when he lost Dean.

He actually lost him this time. Permanently. There would be no wondering if he was still out there, no trying to find him, no endless phone calls and police stations and missing child reports.

There would be no hope.

Why did he tell Sam that Dean is… was his brother?

But how could he not have told him?

It felt like someone was cutting a hole through his chest; the void that held Mary's memories slowly started expanding, taking Dean and filing him away for some far off night when John could get drunk and not put Sam in danger doing it. The hole tore his son from him as if some werewolf had ripped his heart out; except being attacked wouldn't have hurt quite so much.

The same sickening helplessness he had in the months after he lost Dean… after he lost Dean the first time came back with a vengeance. It filled his throat and crushed his heart. It trickled down into his stomach and flipped the thing around until John was ready to puke for the hundredth time that day. It clouded his brain and started leaking from his eyes. It tore at his sanity and left him feeling hollow. Empty.

Wait. No. Dean… Dean is gone? I couldn't save him?

His knees felt weak.

He's gone?

His hands started to shake and found their way onto the top of his head, twinned to keep him from punching a wall or accidentally hurting the short, blonde nurse. He gagged at the crunch of dried blood in his hair.

There's no way.

No. He's really gone?

John closed his eyes and tried to breathe.

How did this happen? I- he was- if I had just told him or showed him the fingerprint results, none of this would've happened. This is all my fault. I put myself before my kids again and look how that worked out. What did it matter that I wasn't ready for them to know? They were.

Dean was. And now he's gone. He died thinking I was trying to put him back in a living hell.

John's throat felt like it was closing. How did it come to this? Dean… please. I didn't mean- I never meant to- please.

Sam will know he lost his brother because of me. Why did I tell him?

Would it have helped? Keeping that from him?

He deserved to know, whether or not I wanted him to. I put myself before my kids. It should've been me.

Why wasn't it me?

"Sir?"

John's eyes opened slowly, the room blurry and way too bright for what the world just lost. He wanted to crush each and every light bulb with his bare hands, black out every window shining with light from a street lamp. The world had no right to do this. Not now.

"There wasn't much we could do. We started him on fluids and got the blood transfusion ready so the OR would have it when they needed it."

"What?" John barked, caught off guard and confused. Why… why would the OR need it? Unless…

"We sent your son right to the operating room, Mr. Valent. There wasn't much we could do in the ER. Dr. Rhett is here today, he's our best surgeon and he took your son's case; he just so happened to come off his break right when you walked in. I'm going to show you folks to the surgery waiting room. It's a lot nicer and the staff there are just amazing. Free coffee, too. Dean is in good hands, sir, and they'll update you whenever they can, okay?"

John finally caught his breath before stumbling, every part of him completely numb, to the nearest chair. A dizzy spell overcame him as he sat with his head in his hands; the frazzled father wasn't sure he'd ever stop shaking. It didn't matter if it was anxiety or relief at that point.

"Um… I'll just come back in a few minutes, then? We can head over whenever you're ready."

"You really need to work on your communication skills."

The only person to notice that the surgery waiting room was indeed nicer than the ER waiting room was Bobby. And that was only because it took him and John half an hour to convince the boys that it was okay to sleep and that the chairs were comfy and squishy and that they would wake them up if anything happened.

As soon as Sam fell asleep on one of the loveseats that lined the sides of the three-walled area, John was pacing. People walking by the open side of the waiting room sent worried glances his way, or did double takes when they saw him nearly break down. All of them hurried on their way.

The two other families in the room went totally unnoticed by John. Only when a nurse showed up in the doorway did he notice that they were there. The nurse called one of them to report on the status of their loved one.

John counted the minutes Dean was under the knife.

An hour later, Sam woke up and there had been no word on the boy's brother.

John heard his stomach growl before the kid was even fully with it. "Kiddo, how long has it been since you ate?" He felt terrible for not realizing before that point that these boys probably hadn't eaten in a long while.

Well, he felt terrible in general, but that made it worse. Father of the year. Maybe Sam really should go live with Bobby.

Sam sat up and rubbed his eye with a groan. "I dunno."

"You don't know?"

"I guess it was at school."

John balked and went to stand in front of Sam. "You haven't eaten in thirty something hours." He stated in disbelief after a quick estimation. "That thing took a lot of blood and didn't give you anything to eat?"

Sam shook his head and yawned. "Did you think he would?"

John held perfectly still as he waited for the seizure to pass. It was easier on Sam if he didn't notice them; he'd discovered that early in Sam's life. "You need to eat and take your medicines." John kept his voice as gentle as he could. Sam looked like he felt almost as bad as John did, mentally, at least. He probably felt a lot worse physically than John had in a long time. "And I need to get you evaluated in the ER. I want to make sure those wounds don't get infected."

"I'm fine." Sam said, sniffing his nose and looking over at the surgical reception desk, where an overweight receptionist was reading her second- or third- gossip magazine. "Did they say anything about Dean yet?"

John sighed and sat next to Sam, unable to look him in the eye. This is my fault. "No, squirt. But no news is good news, sometimes." He didn't believe this was one of those times, but Sam didn't need to know that. "I told you I would wake you up if they told us anything."

"Yeah." Sam looked with sad eyes to the ground at his feet. "Can I tell you something that might sound kinda weird?"

"Shoot."

"Don't get all worked about it, though, okay? It's not a big deal."

"Tell me what's wrong." John was suddenly on edge. If something new was wrong with Sam, he needed to know now, before it got worse and lessened their chances of escaping the fang.

"Nothing's wrong. I just… I dream about him, Dad. For a long time now."

"What?" John was once again caught off guard.

"My- uh, my night terrors. Y'know…" Sam shrugged, trying to figure out the best way to explain it.

"The ones with the blue and red and brown things?" John asked. Sam had only told him about one of the dreams, so he was hoping that was the right one. He'd done months of research on it, trying to figure out if it was a natural thing or if some SOB had cursed his son. Turns out night terrors are sometimes the result of trauma. John stopped his research after that. Sam never knew about it.

"Yeah. But that's just half of it."

"There was more?" John asked quietly. Bobby looked up from his Styrofoam cup of coffee, silently wondering what was going on. The Winchesters weren't usually so… communicative. This was a rare occurrence, like watching a giraffe give birth or something.

"Yeah. Uh, eventually, after a really long time, the colors go away and I get fuzzy shapes of green and some brown- some weird blobs, but… I think I remember him, Dad." Sam looked up at his father when the man didn't respond. He looked mildly alarmed. "I remember sitting on something squishy, and holding something sticky and wet, and, with my other hand, holding onto something warm and stable. And that thing moved when I heard somebody laughing. It sounded like a… like a little boy."

"I'll be damned." John breathed, his mind a whirlwind of shock and shame and disbelief and pride.

He was going to take his boys on a long vacation when they finally sorted all this shit out; he knew he wasn't the only one pushed to his emotional limit.

"Kiddo… That was every Friday night for us, before... before Plainfield."

"Plainfield?"

John swallowed hard and nodded. "We were in Plainfield when your brother was taken. At the Andover Inn. I'll never forget."

"Oh."

"Every Friday night, I would stay in from the hunt and we would just… be a family. I- I used to buy a treat for you two and rent a movie. You loved oranges, so of course your brother always asked for those. We would all sit on the bed, getting juice and fruit pieces all over the place, and watch some dumb kid's movie. Or something about animals. You loved those ones." John had to pause and clear his throat; Sam did remember. Both his boys actually remembered each other, at least a little. It was almost more than John could handle. Why did I hide him?

"So… so it's real? My dream?" Sam asked hesitantly. He never expected Dad to confirm his dream. The most he thought he would get was a solid 'could be'.

Sam spent every waking moment of his life with his brother, until Dean was taken. Why was he surprised that he remembered the boy? He was just surprised that he didn't make the connection sooner.

"Yeah. Yeah, it is." John had to turn away and collect himself for a good few seconds before returning to his littlest. Sam was hungry. Dad needed to make sure Sam ate and took his medicine. He should probably get some food into that other kid, too. "Why don't we talk more about this another time, huh? You need food."

"I don't wanna miss it if they say something about Dean."

"Aren't you hungry?" John asked, crossing his arms and giving Sam the Dad look.

"No…" Sam looked away and frowned when, just a few seconds later, his stomach growled again. "Okay, maybe."

"Bobby, would you take the boys to get some food at the cafeteria? I'll pay."

"I'm not leaving. I only just got my brother back and I gotta be here for him like he was for me." Sam insisted, standing and glaring at his father, the picture of teenage defiance. "He protected me and now I gotta protect him."

"Sam, now is not the time to-"

"What d'ya want, kid?" Bobby walked up with Cas, slightly unsteady from sleep, beside him. "I'll make a run."

Sam glanced between Dad and Uncle Bobby a few times before Dad shrugged and went to sit with his head in his hands. Anybody could tell that he was exhausted.

"Some kind of sandwich, I guess." Sam said quietly, dropping his gaze to the awful print on the carpet. "And water."

"John?"

"I'm fine."

"Bullshit. You haven't eaten since yesterday. If you don't pick somethin' then I'll just bring whatever I damn well please and make you eat it."

"Surprise me, then." John grumbled into his hands, not moving.

"You comin' with me, kid?" Bobby looked to Cas, who took a few seconds to realize that he was being spoken to.

"Me? Wha- uh, well, I kinda…" Cas' eyes shone with something bordering on fear when he looked to Sam.

"Can he stay with me, Uncle Bobby? He's my responsibility. It's my fault he got into our mess and I don't want anything to happen to him."

"Damn straight it's your fault. So grounded…" John grumbled once more, only to be ignored by the rest of the group.

Bobby couldn't fight the puppy dog eyes or the very mature sense of duty Sam felt because of his mistake in getting Cas swept up in their crazy disaster. He just shrugged, asked Cas what he wanted, and left.

"Thanks." Cas breathed, crossing his arms. It looked more like he was hugging himself than trying to put up a brave front. "Your family is really intimidating, y'know that?"

"I'm not related to Uncle Bobby." Sam went to sit near Dad, leaving Cas to wallow in his confused exasperation.

"No one is related to anyone but some of them might be and then there's that guy and…" He trailed off, going to join the little group.

"But we are all family." John finally lifted his head from his hands and looked over the two boys with tired eyes. No matter how frustrated Sam made him, John knew it wasn't the kid's fault. This situation was hard on everyone and his son was just reacting in the only way he knew. John had no right to snap at him. But Sam would be grounded until his eighteenth birthday, at least. Probably. "Because family doesn't end with blood, right, squirt?"

"It's Sam. But, yeah." Sam turned to address Cas. "Dad always says it's the bond that makes a family, not the genes. So even though I'm not related to Uncle Bobby, he's still family."

Cas frowned and felt a heavy sadness fall over him like a wet blanket. He decided to admire the swirling blues and greens of the carpet as he spoke. "I have blood relatives who won't speak to me just because my father married a woman they didn't like. The last time I talked to them, they made it seem like I should've stopped him. I was just a kid. I still am a kid, even nine years later."

"Do you mean Sadie?" Sam asked quietly. "They thought you should've convinced your dad to dump her?"

"Yes and yes."

"And they won't even talk to you now that your dad and Sadie are both gone? They just abandoned you?" Sam almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was starting to think that Dad protected him from a lot more than just monsters; Dad kept so many hard truths from shattering his son's innocence that it was starting to blow his mind. Dad managed to let him stay a kid for much longer than most parents could dream of given their line of work.

"It's just me. I haven't heard from anyone since Dad's funeral. Well, wait- no, that's a lie. I haven't spoken to any of them since my older brother tried to force me to sign over Dad's estate. He was the last family member I spoke to."

"You have a brother?" Sam almost smiled. He was glad he didn't.

"Yeah. Four, actually, and two sisters… well, they're all half-siblings. They're a lot older than me. We all have the same dad but there are… four, I think. Four mothers between us. Dad told me once that he could never find just one woman with everything, so he shopped around. Told me my mom was the one, but… they couldn't stop the bleeding. I almost died, too; I was blue when I was born. None of Dad's exes liked Mom, so I didn't even know about four of my siblings until Dad's funeral." Cas shrugged and let loose a deep sigh. "No one really liked Dad either, I guess, except me. He burned a lot of bridges, paid a lot of child support. But he told me all the time that I was his pride and joy and he loved me more than anything. Even Sadie. I guess my relatives came to the funeral hoping that they were included in his will. Imagine my surprise when my lawyer pulled me aside and told me to stay in his locked office while he read my father's last will and testament to everyone. That man probably saved my life. My family… they weren't happy about everything being left to an emancipated fifteen year old without supervision. That's why I'm living in Temple now. So none of them can find me and… do things. If they wanted to talk, they could call my lawyer and he'd transfer the call. He told me that was the only safe way to communicate with them. They can't track the call if it's through his phone system."

"Dude." Sam breathed, unable to form any more appropriate words. For so long, Sam thought his life was hard. Moving all the time, being hunted by vampires, having Dad breathing down his neck about school and safety. But Dean and Cas… Sam realized that he had a pretty awesome childhood. Because he had a pretty awesome Dad.

"Who do you live with, then?" John asked, visibly concerned. He was a strong supporter of the notion that a child should be raised, not trained or ignored or turned away like some animal. "Who takes care of you? Who protects you?"

"I live by myself. Got an apartment and a bike. My- uh, my caseworker stops by every so often to check up on me, but other than that, I do all my own caretaking." Cas shrugged and sniffed his nose, finally looking up from the carpet to meet John's eyes for a brief moment. "I'm fine."

"It's not fine to force a child to live by himself." John said firmly. "You don't have anyone to go to?"

Cas shook his head and leaned back in his chair, eyes downcast. "I don't have a somebody like you and Sam. I- I can't get too close to people. They either get mean or too friendly once they find out you have money." He huffed a humorless laugh. "Sometimes I wish Dad would've just left the money to everyone else and let me go into foster care."

"You needed a parent." John stated simply, understanding exactly what the boy was trying to get across. "You needed support and no one was there for you. No one stepped up to help you."

"Why would your family just abandon you like that? You were the one with all the money. Didn't they fight over getting to take care of you?" Sam asked, confused once more.

Cas frowned. "Money is a dangerous thing, Sam. Most of my family is shockingly greedy and also, not surprisingly, very rich. But then, uh, two of my half-siblings are kinda lower middle class, and my brother is awesome, but our sister hates me. Their mom wouldn't take me in, even though she said she really wanted to, because having money like that would make all of them a target for the rest of the family just like I was. And everyone else just wanted the money; they applied to adopt me, but not one of them passed the tests. So my emancipation held and now I'm here."

John groaned and scrubbed his face with one hand. "With a vampire chasing you and four hunters trying to play keep-away. Sounds like you've got shit luck, kid." He turned to look at Cas, whose face and eyes were reddening. John felt bad. He shouldn't have been dragged into their problems. He was just a kid. Still just a scared little boy.

"You're tellin' me." Cas pulled his legs up onto his chair and held onto them like he was shielding himself from the world.

"We'll get you through all this. You'll just have to trust us." John ran a hand through his hair. He gagged again when his fingers hit dried blood again.

Sam had a thought. "Hey, Dad? What if we were Cas' somebodies?"

"What?"

"Can we be Cas' somebodies? Like the family he needs?"

John simply took in his son's words for a few seconds. The kid was a bleeding heart. The world needed more people like Sam.

Dad's smile was small and weary. "Everybody needs somebody. What's another teenage boy to keep an eye on?" After a deep breath, he released an almighty sigh. "But, kiddo, that's not my decision to make. All parties have to be in favor."

Sam frowned and thought for a moment before turning to Cas. "Is that okay? If we're your somebodies?"

Cas just stared at him for a while. There's no halfway with this kid, is there? "Why? Why do you want to do that? You don't even know me."

"Because you need a somebody. Everybody needs somebody."

"Is that it? That's the only reason?" Cas asked, his expression very skeptical. They knew he had money, now; he'd gone outed himself to the only person he could probably reliably call a friend. What if the Winchesters turned out to be just as bad as most of his family? This could very well be a trap.

"Yeah. Do you need another one, er…?"

"Sammy, what did he just talk about? Why was he uncomfortable letting people get close to him? Think about it." John leaned over and spoke quietly into Sam's ear, trying to help the confused boy out.

"We don't want your money." Sam's face reflected his disgust when he finally put the pieces together. "We're doing fine on our own. Why would we need to steal from you?"

"So money has nothing to do with it?" Cas didn't mean to, but he let a sliver of hope shine through the sadness that was currently trying to suffocate him. He glanced between John and Sam a few times, finding no hint of dishonesty in either face. I can have somebody to rely on again?

"We don't really worry about finances, kid." John said with a tired shrug. "Money has never been much of a big deal for our family. We get by, we have enough, and we're together. That's livin' the life, don't you think?"

"Sounds nice." The words were so soft that had John not been paying attention, he would've missed them.

"You're welcome to get in on it, if that's what you want. You helped save my boys and that's something I won't take lightly." John watched a flood of emotions fly across the kid's face, very subtly. "I mean it. And if we don't gank the fang who took you three, you really won't have a choice. For a while, at least."

"Huh?" Cas felt a spike of nervous adrenaline hit him when the words 'you really won't have a choice' were spoken. He'd heard those words before and they never boded well for him.

"Vampires remember people's scents for their whole lives. Winthrop has your scent now. He can track you anywhere and he probably will, seeing as you helped us escape. You won't be safe on your own anymore." Sam said with a twinge of regret in his voice. He looked away from the group, towards the hall behind the surgery reception desk. "I'm really sorry. I didn't think you would be in any danger coming over to help me with my homework."

John watched Cas' face pale about three shades. He was about to say something when the kid spoke up. "You better pass that class, then."

"The three of you aren't going to school until that fang is dead. Or at the very least until we're halfway across the country. I can't put you in the line of fire again. I won't." John's tone rang with finality. "As soon as Dean is stable, we're transferring him as far away as the hospital will let him go."

Sam felt his chest clench up again; he'd nearly forgotten why they were there, sitting in the uncomfortable chairs of a hospital waiting room. "How long has it been, Dad? Does this kind of stuff usually take so long?" He glanced at the hallway behind the desk again. It was just as empty as before.

"I don't know, squirt. I've never had to deal with a kidney injury."

"Dean's gonna be okay, though, right?"

"I sure hope so, son."

A/N: I didn't kill Dean! Surprise! And Mungojassie asked for more Cas backstory (which was already written but I thought I'd bring it up anyway). This chapter could be the set up for some future stories about our boys from this AU. We'll see how many situations I can throw them into that would make for good storytelling; let the brainstorming begin!

Feel free to give me ideas, by the way. I love hearing from you guys.

Leave me words!

See you next Monday (probably)...