Wow, I've never had this many reviews before. Thank you all so much.
This installment is a little bit longer, and I hope you like it.
Sam woke late into the night, with a bad headache. Before even opening his eyes, he called for Dean. He didn't know how he knew, but there was something that told him Dean was nearby.
"Son, open your eyes." John's voice alerted him, and his eyes sprung open quickly. He rubbed them to make sure that he was seeing right, and then tilted his head in confusion.
"Where's Dean at?" He asked this, looking around the room. He didn't care that his father was here in the room. The man had abandoned them for so long. Dean had called him so many times, and the only thing he left them were coordinates. Dean was the one who had sat with him for this long, stayed by his side since Jessica's death. Their dad probably had no clue.
"I told Dean to go to the cafeteria. He hasn't eaten for a while, and if something were to attack you, he wouldn't be able to kill it." John said in a matter-of-fact voice. He sounded just as clipped as Sam had always remembered him, and he wondered once again why Dean had left him with him.
"Can you go get him?" He asked.
"Why don't we sit for a while? We can talk." John said. He cared about his baby boy, and he reminded himself that he needed to treat Sammy differently than he treated Dean.
"Fine," Sam said, surrendering himself to the fact that he was too weak to fight his old man. He may as well just get this over with.
"You knew you had this?" John asked him in a calm, controlled voice. Sam knew from experience that this was the voice that had been used whenever his dad was mad at him.
"Yes." It was better to keep it simple and to the point. The less he gave his dad to work with, the less he would yell.
"You know that this could have been avoided if you had dealt with it sooner. I thought I had taught you that much." John said, that condescending tone in his voice. Sam averted his eyes. He knew his dad would be angry. This was his choice and he had kept it silent for a good reason. Why couldn't his dad just accept that?
"I had my reasons for keeping it to myself." He sighed. It would be so much easier to just give in. His aching head told him to, but he wouldn't just give in like that.
"Yeah, I heard. I don't think those were good reasons." John said gruffly, and once again Sam felt the sting of his words.
"Look, it was what I thought was best. I'm twenty-two, dad. I can make up my own decisions." God, his head was spinning. He wished they could just let it drop. There was some part of him that just wanted his dad to give him a hug and tell him that everything would work out, but that wasn't his dad. He took a breath, and prepared himself for surrender. "Dad, I'm cold. Is there another blanket that you can give me?"
John took a deep breath and for a minute Sam thought that he was going to be told to toughen up. Then, he caught it; the look of concern on his father's face. He stood up from his seat. "I'll be back in a minute. I'm going to go ask that nurse for another one. Dean asked her for one a little while before he left, but she must have seen him leave and thought that she didn't need to do it."
Sam leaned his head back on the bed. It hadn't been a hug, but it was the closest thing John Winchester would ever give out. He had just started to drift back to sleep when he heard footsteps come back into the room. 'Whoever it is can just deal with me sleeping.' He was sure it had been his father coming back to the room.
Dean gasped when he came back in the room. Other than Sammy, it was empty. His baby brother had been left alone. "Where the hell did he go?" Dean had asked the question to no one in particular, and he was startled when he heard the voice.
"I'm cold." Sammy was awake, but he wasn't bothering to open his eyes. Dean moved closer to the bed, brushing Sam's forehead.
"Okay, I'll go get you a blanket." Dean said, not really wanting to leave his side. Sam had already been left behind for too long.
"No, Dad went to go get me a blanket. He was here." Fatigue was creeping into his voice, and Dean knew he wouldn't be able to stay awake for much longer.
"Oh, well...just rest Sam." Dean patted the top of Sam's hand and sat down in the chair closest to the bed, prepared to stand guard. He wished that his brother would stay up longer, but knew that he needed to sleep. Tomorrow, he would wake him up and they would watch TV or something. He needed to go get the laptop; not so they could find a new case, but so that Sam would have something to do when he woke up. Hell, he needed something to do when Sam wasn't awake. As much as he loved his brother, this place was driving him nuts.
From behind him, he heard the once familiar footsteps of their father. John stepped around the chair Dean was in and laid the blankets that he'd gotten from the scared nurse on his youngest son. He and Dean shared a glance and then Dean touched the blankets, counting them.
"How'd you get her to give you three blankets?" He asked suspiciously.
"I went down there and told her she needed to do her work better and if she didn't give me enough blankets to keep your brother warm that I would have her job." John Winchester was nothing if not assertive. It was what kept the boys in line for so many years. Dean shook his head.
"Nice going. I was trying to get a date with her." It was said with a smirk, and a sigh.
John didn't pay any attention to it, though. He had gone back to being all business. He shook the youngest member of their clan with a sharpness that left Dean wanting to take action against the old man. If he had questioned Sam being awake earlier, he had no doubts now. Sam awoke with a startle, looking around with glazed eyes. "We need to talk, son."
Sam sighed, but kept his eyes open. Dean wanted to throw their dad out of the room. Whatever it was could wait until tomorrow. "Dad..."
"No, Dean. The sooner we deal with this, the sooner it won't be an issue. Sam, Dean told me that they won't start chemotherapy until you tell them to. You need to do that when the doctor comes in the morning." John was in full military authoritarian mode. It had been a demand, not a request.
"No, dad...There's a reason why I didn't before, and why I won't now. It won't necessarily heal me and it'll make the rest of my life hell." Sam was clearly exhausted just having this conversation. He knew he wouldn't be able to withstand a round of chemo.
"That wasn't a request, Samuel. You will do this." Dean closed his eyes tightly, wondering why he had called their dad in the first place. Sure, he genuinely loved and cared about Sammy, but he knew where this was going, and this couldn't be good for his health.
"It's my choice. I'm old enough to deal with this my way." Sam said, his voice becoming a bit stronger. He felt sick to his stomach and he knew a lot of it had nothing to do with the argument he was currently having with his father.
"It's a done deal." John said to him. Dean saw the change in Sam, how pale he was getting and he looked like he would be sick any minute.
"Sam, please, for me, just give it a try. You're going to be okay. You just have to stick with this. Please." He wasn't beyond begging at this point, if only to end the argument.
"For you..." Sam looked around for a minute before trying to speak again, a whine in his voice. "Dean, I need..." Trying to get away from his bed, but failing miserably, Sam started to get sick before Dean could even move. A pan was handed to him by John. He glared at the older man, angry that he had caused this. In the back of his mind, he knew that when he had entered the room, Sam was probably already sick and being woken back up had probably just jarred it, but he needed a target.
"I'll go get a nurse to clean this up and bring him more blankets." John excused himself, and left the room.
"It'll be okay, Sammy." He cooed, comforting the only good thing that had ever been in his life.
Merry Christmas everyone! Hope your holiday is nice, and your family get-togethers are peaceful.
Hope you enjoyed this chapter.
Happy hunting!