Here's the next installment. It's kinda short, but the next installment after this should be along shortly. Thank you all for your reviews.

Kaewi: Hey, sorry again for the misunderstanding. The "if" was Dean's point of view and him not giving up on his brother.

Things were getting worse with Sammy; Dean could feel it. Sammy was losing ground faster than anyone could hold on. The disease may have taken a long time to make itself known, but now that they were treating him for it, it was taking over. They were starting the third week of chemo, and Sam was so weak. In the beginning, he and his baby brother had spent a lot of time talking, watching TV and playing games on the laptop. Now, he slept much of the time, too much, and he woke screaming in agony because his bones were hurting him. The "cure" had just been given to him half an hour ago. Dean had watched, gripping onto his brother's hand and becoming more angry with the doctor for causing Sammy pain. Sam was half-conscious now, rolled up as he usually was, and the quilt wasn't even keeping him warm enough. Shivers racked his body in an attempt to warm him.

"Hey, it's going to be all right." Dean promised him. He still couldn't shake the feeling that it was a lie, that he was going to lose his Sammy, but he fought hard to have hope. So, he reassured him. He needed to tell Sammy something, needed to make it okay for him as well as for himself. Their dad was standing on the other side of the bed, rubbing circles on Sam's back.

"Sam, you need to lie on your back." John tried to coax him, and although Dean knew the reasoning, he still felt a little angry at him for doing this. A small infection had been discovered in Sammy's lungs and the doctor had put him on medication in hopes of slowing down the spread of liquid in his lungs. He had tried not to scare either of the Winchester men but had told them that the infection, if allowed to develop, could form pneumonia. Dean knew that if Sammy got pneumonia, that they wouldn't be able to keep him here. They would lose him just like they lost their mother. Basically, he needed to stay on his back. In that sitting position, he would be allowed to breathe better and the fluid wouldn't build up.

Sammy looked up at John, but rolled over to be on his back. John's heart broke, but he knew he had to be authoritative. His son needed someone to tell him what to do right now. "Dean," He said to his oldest boy, calling him over away from the bed. "I'm going to go make some phone calls and get some stuff from the store. I'll be back, probably a couple of hours though."

"Dad! He just got the chemo. You know it's gonna get worse. Just stay here for a while. He needs you." Dean said, clenching his jaw while talking to his father.

"He has you here, son. Just stay with him, and I'll be back." John told him, and walked out of the door before Dean could even say anything. He needed to get away from the situation, to cool himself down so that he could stay in control of his emotions. He would keep his word, though; he would come back after making a quick phone call and going to get something for Sammy.

John Winchester left the hospital, and walked to his car that was parked in the parking garage a little bit away. Sitting in the front seat, he dialed a number and waited as it rang. He looked over the papers that had been strewn over the front seat, documents that gave him more of an insight to the thing that had killed Mary. Before Dean had called him, he was so close to finding this thing, so close to killing it, so that his boys could be reunited with him. This took top priority, though. It was more important to be there and try to save his living son than to hunt down something that had already taken his wife. This was the way she would have wanted it. He glanced at his ring; if she were here, she would be able to handle all this emotional stuff better. She had always been the one to kiss Dean's wounds, and to make him better just by making things seem magical. He couldn't do it, no matter how hard he tried. The person he had been trying to reach answered the phone.

"John, how are you?" The friendly voice of Missouri answered.

"We're..."

"Boy, you say you're fine, I'm gonna come find you and smack you." She said, warning him in the same tone she had spoken to his son in.

He chuckled a little, glad that something was business as usual. He sighed and prepared himself to tell her the truth. "It doesn't look good. Sam's worse, he's just...not fighting it, and I don't know what to do. I'm worried that if by some chance, some stroke of bad luck, he doesn't make it, that Dean will be devastated. I'll be devastated."

He wasn't the ex-marine anymore; he was the father. She knew that after Mary died, he had stopped being the father, choosing instead to protect his sons the best way he knew how. This was so far removed from what he was comfortable dealing with. "John, he'll be all right. You just have to fight for him if he's not at the moment. Don't give up on him."

"There's only so much that we can do. Right now, Sam's counting on Dean and I to do the fighting for him and I'm not sure that's what he needs."

"Everything will be fine, John. You'll see. Do you want me to come up there?" She would if that was what he thought was best, but she didn't want to overstep her boundaries in a relationship that was just starting to be mended.

"No, that's okay." He sighed deeply. "We're taking care of him."

"All right. Well, don't be a stranger now." She knew he had to get back to his son, and that he had other things he needed to do before he went back up there.

"I'll call you later, Missouri."

"Okay, call me if there's any change." He hung up the phone. Leafing through the papers once more, he almost had himself convinced that he would be more productive if he left and went after the thing that killed Mary. He started the engine up and pulled the car out of the parking space. He had things he needed to do. Maybe he couldn't be Mary, but he could give his son something that would comfort him.

Hope you enjoy this chapter. Once again, feel free to leave me a review, either constructive criticism, praise, or a question.

Happy hunting!