A/N: So, this chapter is basically the story so far from John's point of view. I'm planning to write another chapter from Natalie's point of view, Dr. Emerson's, maybe one from Jackie's, and some kind of conclusion chapter. Enjoy!

No one knew John Winchester well. Not even his own sons. He liked it that way. It kept him from getting too close and too attached to anyone, and therefore ultimately kept the people he cared about safe. But there was one thing about himself that John was grateful no one knew.

He despised needles.

Watching a needle go into his skin made John want to crawl far, far away. When his boys were little and had to get shots, John was good at hiding his emotions and helping them get through it. But he never failed to be creeped out at the sight of a needle. The chance he was taking now was the very definition of a long shot, but if things panned out, John's life could drastically change for the better.

What surprised him the most was that it took so long for him to be checked. Despite his drinking habits, John was in good health. Though Sam had left the family years earlier, John had kept a tight watch on him. He'd known when Sam graduated college, when Sam graduated law school, and when Sam met and married Jackie. Natalie had thrown him for a loop. John had been out of touch with Sam's life for a couple of months, and had come back to find Sam holding a little girl. When John discovered that Sam and Jackie had adopted this new little girl, John's visits became an almost weekly occurrence.

Natalie was beautiful. John had always wanted a little girl. Every time John came to see the little family, he rented a different car, so as far as he knew, Sam had never seen him. Over time, it became harder to hide. After Natalie's first birthday, John noticed that it was harder to find Sam and Natalie. He eventually found out, through a hunting connection, that Natalie was a very sick little girl. John had broken into the office of Natalie's doctor and made copies of her medical records. John was not an easy man to scare, but what he found scared him. And a scared John drank more.

Dean tried multiple times to get John to mend bridges with Sam. His arguments made sense. Though Sam was stubborn, he could use all the help he could get with Natalie. They had killed the demon that killed Sam and Dean's mother Mary, the ultimate goal of hunting in the first place, so why not go to Sam and help him out? Why not, Dean reasoned, go and show Sam that the two of them cared, and maybe patch up their relationship while they were at it?

John knew that Dean was right, but he was still resistant to the idea of approaching Sam. Their last conversation, years before, had haunted John every single day, and he didn't know if he could face Sam again.

Nineteen Years Old

"I'm nineteen, Dad. I can make my own choices about my own life."

"You know, you like to claim that I never listen to you, Sam. It would be nice if you listened to me just once in your life."

Sam scoffed and threw his duffel bag down. "This oughta be good. Listen to what, Dad? You tell me, again, how I'm not measuring up? How I'm not doing a good enough job? How I don't care about mom because my priorities aren't the same as yours? Come on, Dad. Give me your best."

John frowned and shook his head. "Is that really what you think I think of you?"

"You've never said or shown any different, Dad. So why should I think anything different?"

John was amazed. Sam was insanely smart. John relied on him every day more and more for research. He wanted, badly, to reward Sam by letting him do things he wanted to do-but Sam had to comply first. That was all John wanted. He wanted Sam to listen to him, to respect him, to do as he was told when he was told. It was a years old question, one that always hung in the air, and was never resolved no matter what happened.

"Do you deny that you've told me that more than you've ever told me anything nice?"

"No." John admitted quietly. "No. You have a point, Sam."

"I've listened. I've listened every single time you've ever said something to me like that. I listened last year when you complained to what little friends our family has left that I never do anything useful…"

Sam's voice broke, and John felt a little chink in his finely tuned armor. The biggest blowout he and Sam had ever had occurred the year before. Sam had been given an opportunity to actually graduate high school on time. He would've had to take two extra classes for one semester. His school day would've started at seven in the morning and ended at five. Though Sam was salivating at the opportunity, John had denied it to him for the same reasons he always gave. Sam needed to focus on training. Hunting came first, before anything.

Sam had refused to talk to John for weeks, only doing the bare minimum in order to get by. John had planned to say in the apartment they were in for a while, but he'd decided to move the next week in an attempt to get Sam's mind off the argument they'd had.

It didn't work.

Sam became more rebellious, more defiant, and even more resistant to what John wanted him to do. John, in turn, became less forgiving, not that he ever had been in the first place. The cycle repeated and repeated itself, until three months later. John had brought Sam and Dean to Bobby's for a while. He'd hoped that Sam's attitude would cool off, but the first day they'd been there, John had blown it.

Caleb, Bobby, and Pastor Jim happened to be there at the same time. John had thought Sam and Dean were upstairs unpacking, and therefore couldn't hear him when he launched into a tirade about Sam's attitude and unwillingness to work together. He'd seen Jim's face fall as soon as the sentence fell out of his mouth.

"I'm just tired of Sam never doing anything that's useful on hunts…"

While Jim was trying to let John know in a discrete way that Sam could hear him, Bobby wasn't as concerned with sparing his friend's feelings. "Watch your mouth, you danged idjit!"

"Bobby, what…?" John turned to see what everyone was looking at, and found Sam standing in the doorway to the kitchen. "Oh."

"Your gun and mine got mixed up, sir. I cleaned it for you." Sam said flatly, handing John his weapon.

Sam hadn't said anything about being hurt by John's statement, so John had left it alone. Jim, Bobby, Caleb, and Dean had all gotten on John's case about apologizing, but John refused to do it. He'd told the truth. Sam needed to grow up. Sam's life was not his own, no matter what Sam seemed to think. He had been brought up to do a very specialized job, and it was Sam's responsibility to fulfill that obligation.

But damn if it didn't hurt to think that Sam didn't feel appreciated at all.

"So I've heard you, Dad. I've carried everything you've ever said to me. Is there anything else you need to say?"

Yes, John thought. I love you, Sam. I need you. Forget about hunting, I need you because I want you to be safe. If you're gone I can't protect you. Please, Sam. Please just stay.

"Yes, Sam. I do."

"Fine. I'm listening. What is it, Dad?"

"If you walk out that door, you don't come back."

It had to work. It had to work. If Sam would just back down, stay, admit that John was right, John would apologize and get down on bended knee if he needed to and make Sam see how much he was loved and appreciated. But he had to get Sam to stay first. Dean, who had gone outside to avoid being put in the middle of the fight, had walked back inside just in time to hear John say 'If you walk out that door, you don't come back'.

"Dad?" Dean asked.

"You heard me, Sam." John said, deliberately ignoring Dean's pleading tone. "Make your choice."

Sam had allowed a brief flash of hurt to cross his face, but he very expertly dropped it. A small part of John was proud of him for that. Sam was finally learning to separate his emotions, put them away and handle things as a man. But John stood firm.

"Make your choice, Sam." John repeated.

"Dad, come on. Please don't do this."

"Sam." It was a both a command and a plea. Please stay. Don't tear the family apart. But whatever you do, make it quick.

"You really mean that? I leave I can't come back." Sam said. "Not for any reason."

"Of course he didn't mean that…" a desperate Dean said, walking over to grab Sam's arm. "Sam, come on. We can talk about this."

"No, Dean." John addressed Dean for the first time. "He needs to choose. Family or school. Which is it, Sam?"

Sam's face betrayed nothing. If he was struggling with his choice, John couldn't tell. He said a quick prayer to Mary, hoping to keep his fragile family together. Sam nodded and picked up his duffel bag.

"Goodbye, Dad."

"Sam, come on, don't do this…" Dean begged.

"Stop, Dean. Your brother's made his choice." John said. "Get out of here, Sam."

"Yes, sir."

John left the house at that moment, unable to stay without breaking down. He stayed away for hours, trying to numb things down until he could function again, but it was impossible. Sam was gone. Sam was gone for good. And no matter what he tried to tell himself, John knew it was his own fault.

"Okay, Mr. Winchester. All done." The nurse pulled the needle out and bandaged his arm.

"That's it?"

The nurse, a kind woman in her late sixties that reminded John of his mother, chuckled. "You sound like most of the kids I have to take blood from."

"I do?"

"Don't worry. It's not a bad thing. Nobody likes having blood drawn."

"Does that include you?"

"Yes, it does, honey. Yes, it does." The nurse, whose name John for some reason couldn't remember, started to walk out. "You have a couple cookies from this tray now, and then make sure to eat something hearty tonight, okay?"

"How long should it be before I know something?" John asked as he pulled down his sleeve. "My grand…" John stopped himself. "The little girl's pretty sick."

"You'll have to talk to the doctor for sure. But I've been a transplant nurse for years. It can sometimes take a few weeks."

"A few weeks? Why so long?"

"They have to make sure everything matches, honey. Everything needs to be as perfect as it can be, especially for someone as little as your granddaughter is."

"How'd you..."

"For one, anonymous donations are very, very rare. They do happen, but they're rare. Two, you have the same last name as Natalie. Since Sam is her father, I figured…"

"That I was Sam's father." John said. He kicked himself. Why hadn't he thought to use an alias?

"Let me guess. You and Sam had some falling out a long time ago. You somehow heard about Natalie, and hoped you'd be able to help her, maybe get back together?"

"How'd you know?" John asked.

"Before I answer, my name is Hannah." The nurse said. "I forget names a lot too. Don't worry about it."

"Sorry about that." John said anyway.

"And I know because it happened with me and my son." Hannah said. "What'd you fight about?"

John frowned. "We kinda fought his entire teenage years. It just sort of came to a head one day."

"Can I give you some unsolicited advice?" Hannah asked.

"Sure."

"Go talk to him. No matter what happened, just swallow your pride and go talk to him. Being right isn't worth losing him. And just think about it. If you swallow that pride and go to him, you get a grandbaby out of the deal."

John smiled. "That would be nice."

"Tell him about being tested for a match for Natalie." Hannah suggested. "Even if you're not a match, it'll earn you brownie points."

"I promise I'll think about it." John said. "Did it work out between you and your son?"

"Eventually, yes. I got up the courage to approach my son. Turns out he felt just as bad about the fight as I did, and he thought I wouldn't want to see him." Hannah said. She chuckled a little. "We had a bit of a laugh with that one."

"Can I have one of those cookies now, please?"

Leaving the office, John thought about doing exactly what he'd discussed with Hannah. He even went as far as to pick up his phone and dial Sam's number. But again, fear got the better of him and he hung up. Dean called with a hunt, and John headed off towards it.

A week later, John was sitting in Bobby's house, wondering about the results. He knew the chances were slim he'd be able to help Sam, but the chance that he'd be able to would be worth it. He'd held onto his cell phone all week, waiting to hear back from the doctor. As he sat at Bobby's table on the night of the seventh day, John thought about the biggest secret he'd ever kept-the fact that he'd met Natalie in person.

Four Years Old

John sat on the outskirts of the park, watching as Sam swung the energetic Natalie back and forth on the swings. He never got tired of seeing how much joy Natalie brought to Sam's life. He only wished he could have a small piece of that joy for himself. Sam pulled Natalie off the swings and took her to another area of the park, out of John's line of vision.

John walked around, careful to stay out of Sam's sight. By the time he found a spot, what he heard and saw instead scared him. Natalie was walking alone, crying hysterically with a hand in her mouth. She was lost. John looked around, but the park was almost empty. He had no other choice, so he approached the distraught Natalie.

"Hey, sweetheart. You okay?"

Natalie turned her big, wet eyes towards the stranger and backed away.

"Whoa. Slow down. I won't hurt you." John held up both hands in surrender and bent down to Natalie's level, attempting to make himself slightly less intimidating. "I just want to make sure you're okay."

Natalie finally decided that talking to John was worth whatever fear she felt. When she spoke, hiccups blocked her words as she sobbed. "I…ca…can't…find my…Daddy. I'm l…lost."

"Well, it just so happens that I'm very good at finding lost daddies. Would you like me to help you?"

"Yes, please." Natalie said. "I need my daddy."

"Come on, sweetheart. We'll find him together, okay?"

"I don't wanna hold your hand. I not know you."

John chuckled. Sam had been teaching her well. "That's alright, sweetheart. Just walk in front of me, okay?"

John walked with Natalie as they searched for Sam. Halfway down the length of the park, John heard Sam's voice calling for Natalie. Before he could say something to Natalie, she was running away from him and towards Sam's silhouette in the distance.

"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!"

Just as Natalie was jumping up into Sam's arms, John was turning around and leaving. He heard Natalie tell Sam that someone had helped her find him, but by then, he was long gone.

John's phone broke him out of the memory. He didn't recognize the number, but it was from Sam's area code.

He was a match for Natalie.

The decision made itself. John told Dean what he'd done, and a shocked Dean looked as if he was ready to literally jump for joy. John wanted to go in for surgery alone, but Dean wouldn't hear it. Dean wanted to approach Sam prior to surgery, but John ordered him not to.

"Sam's as proud and as stubborn as I am, Dean. If we go to him first, he might reject this. Let me do this for Natalie first and then afterwards, if Sam wants to talk, I'm all ears."

Having the surgery itself wasn't as simple as he'd thought at first. John was required to go through another round of tests. Somehow he made it through them intact, and the day finally came. John had made it clear to the doctors that he wanted to remain anonymous until after the surgery.

John was still groggy. And sore. He'd been through hunts where he'd gotten hurt before. But he'd been awake now for just under a half hour, and he couldn't get past the feeling of a part of him being gone now. He didn't regret what he'd done, but he wondered if he'd ever feel like the same person again. Dean sat beside him, asking over and over if he needed anything. John shook his head, and finally the doctor came in to check on him. The doctor had made no indication that he knew that John was Sam's father, and his question seemed to confirm that.

"Well, John. The little girl you donated to just came out of surgery."

"How's she doing?"

"She is doing great. She's a strong little girl." the doctor said. After briefly checking John's chart, he asked with a smile, "So, I'm about to go check in with her parents. If they're up for it, do you want to meet them?"

Though he felt his heart clench at the thought, he looked over to Dean, who was nodding in approval. "Sure."

The doctor left, and Dean went towards the door. John had never seen him looking so excited. It seemed to be days before John noticed Sam walking towards them.

It was time.

"Dad?"