See...I told you I hadn't abandoned it...and now that finals are over, I hope to be able to get back to writing more often and hopefully finish this soon...and start more too of course...but for now, on with the story...

Chapter 4

The man in front of Dean and John sighed. The look of the smaller one cut to the man's heart and he wished that he had better news to give the two. He had seen many motor versus pedestrian cases, and each time it was a child, it tore another piece out of his soul. There was no need for children to be the victim of these, especially when he had overheard Dean's previous outburst. Drunk driving never did well for anyone, be it the person making the decision to drink or the people that they hurt in the long run, and it seemed that the woman who had hit his patient had lost on both counts.

Both John and Dean were silently urging the doctor in front of them on. One way or another, they needed to know how the youngest member of their family fared. They had both long ago immortalized Mary in Sam, and not knowing what was going on with the small boy made it feel like they were losing both Winchesters at once. One now bit his lip and the other wrung his hands together, both praying that the grim visage that faced them was only tired and not saddened at the work he had put in.

The doctor sighed again and finally addressed the family in front of him. "Sam was a pretty bad mess when he was brought in. He stopped breathing again shortly after he was transferred to my care, and his heart stopped shortly after that. One of his ribs was pressing on his vena cava, and cutting off his blood supply to his heart. We managed to reset the rib without opening up his chest, but it took a little longer than we would have liked to restart his heart." The emergency room doctor paused as Dean swayed on his feet. "Maybe your son should sit down, Mr. Winchester."

"What? Sam isn't…oh, Dean." John took one look at his oldest son and guided him back down into the chair behind him. "Please, continue."

The doctor nodded once more and began again. "Like I said, it took a little longer than we would have liked to get his heart started again, and we're not sure yet what kind of effect it may have had on him."

"But you got it started again, right?" Dean interrupted him, needing some kind of professional reassurance that his brother was still among the living.

"Yes, we did. But he is by no means out of the woods yet, son. His right lung also collapsed from his rib cage taking so much of the car's force. We had to insert a chest tube to re-inflate it, and he's on a ventilator now. We stitched a gash on his forehead, on the back of his head, and on his left arm. We also had to stitch up his left thigh, and we're a little bit worried about anterior compartment syndrome settling there." Dean rolled his eyes at the medical term he didn't understand.

Still the doctor continued. "He has a pretty bad concussion and some cranial swelling that we're worried about. His right kneecap and tibia are broken, and we're concerned that he may have a skull fracture as well. He had some pretty bad road rash on his chest, face, and extremities, which we disinfected and covered, and from there we had done all we could."

The last four words sent Dean into a panic, and it was all he could do to not jump up and throttle the doctor for not saving his brother. Oh my God, did all they could…oh my God. Sammy's gone, after all this he still died. I can't believe it, oh God it's my fault, oh no it's…wait, he's still talking? What the Hell?

"We had to send him up to surgery to repair his arm and to take care of any internal bleeding he may have. I need you to sign this consent form to allow them to perform an exploratory laparotomy."

"Is it dangerous?" John was already reaching for the pen, however.

"Under ideal circumstances, it isn't. If you or your older son were to undergo one, you'd be up and about in a few days provided we didn't find anything wrong. But for someone in Sam's condition, I won't lie to you; it's a bit of a risk."

"And if it were your son…?"

"I'd have it done in a second." There was no hesitation in the man's voice and John nodded, signing the forms.

"Surgery is up on the fourth floor. Allie here will show you up there. If you need anything else, the nurses up there will be able to assist you and keep you updated about Sam."

John got back up slowly from the chair he hadn't realized that he'd sunk into, and moved to follow. He was immediately on alert, however, when he didn't feel Dean following him.

"Dean?"

The twelve-year old looked up into his father's eyes with fear filling his own. He needed to know that all of this was going to be worth it; that his brother was going to be just fine and wasn't going to hate him when he came out of this. He needed to know that if Sam didn't come out of this, his father wasn't going to spend the rest of his life blaming and hating him. He needed to know that he still had a family and that they still wanted him to be a part of it.

John saw the fear and self-loathing; he could see the tremors that just barely settled in his son's hands. He let out a choked laugh, trying to comfort the boy when he, himself, was so close to falling apart, and then lifted his son into his arms again, letting Dean know without speaking that everything would eventually return to normal. He could hope anyway.

It was some time later when Dean came to his senses again, shocked to find himself curled up on his father's lap, soothed by the man's soft snores. He wasn't sure how long he had been there, but a quick glance around brought a wall clock to his attention. A little bit of work from his sleep-clouded brain told him that it was ten past four in the morning. He remembered seeing two in the afternoon on the oven's clock in the apartment and was instantly worried again. It had been over twelve hours since Sam had been hurt, and he didn't really even know where he was now.

Slowly, Dean slipped out of his father's protective embrace, a little bit mystified by the fact that the man hadn't woken. He knew from experience that his father often woke up slowly when Dean called for him in the middle of the night, but he had also seen how quickly the same man could come alert if need be. He hadn't really expected his father not to notice his escape.

With a purpose driving him, Dean stared first down one end of the corridor, and then the other. They both looked unforgiving and sterile, and the boy was unsure of which way to go. For some reason, right seemed like a good way to go, so the boy followed his instincts. He was rewarded around the corner when he found what looked like a nurses' station. The counters were high and his short stature barely made it over them, but if he stood on tiptoes, he could get his hands with enough leverage to pull himself up.

"Excuse me," Dean whispered, trying not to scare the woman with her back to him. "Excuse me, ma'am, but I'm looking for my brother. Do you know if they're done with him?"

Dean was shocked when red, bleary eyes turned to greet him. They looked so much like his brother's did when Sam was upset that he found himself asking her what was wrong before he knew what he was doing.

"I just found out my younger sister died, tonight. She was drunk…but how may I help you? You said you were looking for your brother?"

Dean put two and two together and gulped, hoping the woman wouldn't have heard about his outburst downstairs. He knew what it was like to feel the loss of a younger sibling, and he didn't need to make it worse for her. After all, he had gotten his brother back. She wouldn't be getting her sister back any time soon.

"Yes, ma'am. He was brought up here earlier. He'd been…hit by a car. Has anyone heard anything yet, do you know?"

"Your brother is Samuel Winchester?" Guilt crossed her own features, and she hoped that the boy in front of her wouldn't make the connection with her sister. After all, she knew what it was like to feel the loss of a younger sibling, and didn't need to make it worse for him. She looked at the computer, searching for the boy's name. "I think they're still in with him. I don't know any more than that, but I can tell you that someone will come find you and your family as soon as they're done."

Dean's arms shook in apprehension and exhaustion from holding him up for so long. "They're still working on him? Shouldn't they have fixed him by now?"

"It can take some time, kiddo. Depends on what they found. Would you like some hot chocolate or something?" She pointed to the warmer behind her, with two pots set to stay hot.

Dean nodded, knowing that he should just take the chocolate. His father didn't even know that the boy had started drinking coffee, and he didn't think the man needed to find out about that just yet.

The boy wandered back to his father a few minutes later with two steaming cups, one of coffee for his father that Dean had surreptitiously taken a few sips out of, and the other for him full of Sam's favorite drink. He got back to John just as the man was waking up.

"Where have you been?" John rubbed sleep from his eyes as he noticed his oldest was no longer on his lap. He took the offered coffee and sniffed it welcomingly before sipping it.

"I went to find out about Sammy. You think he'll be okay, right Dad?"

"Of course he will, Dean. Your brother's strong, almost as strong as you are now. He'll be back to his usual self in no time; you'll see." The man's heart wasn't behind his words, however, and Dean was more nervous than he had been a few minutes ago. His father was telling the truth, wasn't he?

Dean just nodded, not willing to upset his father any more, and climbed up into the seat next to the man. He felt much younger than his twelve years and wanted nothing more than to wake up and have this all be a bad dream. He would play soccer with his brother for days straight if only it meant that none of this had ever happened.

The boy had almost drifted off again, the now-empty cup in his hand dangling precariously from his fingers, when yet another doctor sought him and his father out.

"Are you with Samuel Winchester?" Dean was getting sick of asked that. Of course we are; do you see anyone else sitting in the abandoned hallway looking petrified? Well…I'm not petrified…just…uhh…

He and his father both nodded, the younger one once again biting his lip as his father stood to shake the surgeon's hand.

"You have news about my son?"

The man nodded before looking at Dean. "I do. Perhaps we should talk privately?"

John's left eyebrow shot up to his hairline, confused. "I don't see anyone else here, how much more private can we…you mean Dean? No. He can stay and hear this. He needs to hear this."

The surgeon just nodded, still concerned for the small boy at his father's side. "Samuel is just being moved out of the operating room. He had some intense bleeding in his abdomen that we had to repair, and we ended up having to take out a piece of his liver; it was too badly damaged. We were able to save his spleen and tie off the wounds to his stomach and intestines. Luckily for him, we found that his appendix was becoming infected; he would have been our guest in a few days anyway it seems. He's a pretty lucky boy for what he's been through. Our orthopedic surgeon pinned both bones in his right forearm and that will heal in time; he'll have to have the pins removed in a few weeks. It seems that his arm was re-set in the field, and the paramedics that brought him in deny doing it. Whoever did so probably saved his arm. They set the bones well, and the realignment restored blood flow to his hand." The man trailed off, looking again at Dean. "You're sure you don't want to talk about this privately and then maybe censor it for your son here?"

"No. Just keep going, please. It will be faster than having to re-explain it to him."

"Your son's lung was badly damaged; I'm sure they told you that downstairs. We had to keep him on the ventilator until it has time to adequately heal, otherwise he could re-collapse it. Normally, with children this young, we will put them into medically induced comas to prevent them from waking and doing themselves more damage by frightening themselves." He paused.

"Normally?" Dean spoke up, his face taught and his eyes wide.

"In Samuel's case…"

"Sam. He's only Samuel when he's in trouble with Dad."

"Quiet, Dean. Don't interrupt him."

"In Sam's case, we can't induce a coma due to the swelling near his brain. He has a massive concussion, and the x-rays we took show the possibility of a skull fracture. They're sending him for a CT scan now to confirm, but until we know how his body is going to react to this, we can't take any more chances with him. He might not wake up if we were to force him to stay unconscious." The man lowered his voice, trying to protect Dean. "He may not wake up anyway."

Dean heard and paled, but stayed on his feet and continued listening.

"But because there is the chance that he will wake up before his lung heals, we had no choice but to put him in soft restraints. If he pulls on that tube or anything else, he could kill himself."

Dean sat back down quickly. They had to restrain his brother? His eyes were even wider than before.

"How soon until we can see him?" John asked quietly, knowing that some doctor's word wasn't going to be enough assurance for his oldest son.

"Soon. They were going to monitor him for a short time in recovery to make sure his body expels the anesthesia, and then take him up to CT before moving him to a PICU room. Someone will come get you when he's settled."

Dean was still sitting stone-faced almost an hour later when a nurse led him and his father up another three flights to the hospital intensive care unit. She led them towards the pediatric unit before stopping and turning to John.

"Are you sure you want to take your son in with you right away?" The woman looked pointedly down at the pale boy standing just in his father's shadow.

"He'll be fine. He needs to see his brother."

"You're sure?" She knew from experience how children could respond when they saw younger, and even older, siblings in this state.

"Look, my youngest son is in there, and we both want to see him."

"Your youngest son is hooked up to a lot of machines. They're doing almost everything for him right now. It's going to be scary, and not just for you. Are you sure you don't want your son to wait a few days before having to see this?"

John sighed, trying not to get annoyed with the woman. He could feel his son behind him, ready to shoot off his mouth and get himself into trouble. "Lady. My oldest boy has seen more in his twelve years than you will probably ever see. When he was four and a half, his mother was murdered in Sam's bedroom. Sam probably would have been killed too, but Dean got him out and protected him. It's been his job to protect his brother since then, and he takes the job very seriously. He's also afraid of losing the boy like he lost his mother. The longer he can't see Sammy, the more damage that's going to occur here, not the other way around. Now, if you still don't think he should go in there and be reassured that his brother is indeed alive and is going to be just fine, then you tell him yourself." John reached behind him and scooted Dean around so that he faced the nurse.

The woman looked down into the boy's eyes and saw the fear there. Fear that she was going to call his father's bluff and tell him not to go in. All he wanted was to see his brother, wanted to hold his little hand and make a thousand promises to never treat his brother like this again. He had been surprised at his father's description of Mary's death. He knew well enough that 'my wife was mutilated by some demon' wouldn't go over well; he, too, had been lying about his mother's death since he learned his father's story. He was surprised that John had left his own part of Sam's rescue out.

He smiled grimly when the nurse simply turned and headed to 713, opening the door for them and watching as they slowly entered the brightly colored room. The door shutting behind Dean was so loud that he physically jumped. He could see the small form that was his brother lying in the bed, could hear the monitors that kept watch and the ventilator that breathed for him. When Dean saw the soft restraints, he felt a single tear come to his eye, but he wiped it away quickly. His father had said that crying would only make Sam worse, and Dean could never do that, would never be able to do that.

Setting his resolve, the boy walked forward with his father, pulling up one of the room's comfortable chairs as close as he could to Sam's left side, and gently took his baby brother's hand into his own. Sam looked so small compared to everything in the room and Dean buried his face in his elbow, not wanting to see how fragile his brother was. He wanted nothing more than for all of this to be over, for all of it to have never happened.

Dean looked up again when he heard a noise come from his father. He saw a tear escape from each of the man's eyes and was shocked. He had never once seen John Winchester cry.

But the tears were gone as quickly as they had come, and Dean wasn't sure that he hadn't imagined them.

"He's gonna be okay, Dad. You'll see."

John laughed quietly. "I know, Dean. I know."

TBC…

Hey look at that, I am capable of ending a chapter without a cliffie...holy...but does that mean that next chapter will have to be twice as bad then? We shall see! Remember to review...